


he looks up, grinning like a devil.

by houseofthedragon



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heist, Smut, based on la casa de papel, i'm not an action writer bear with me here, i've never written anything like this before so idk how this will turn out, no incest (sadly), not really enemies to lovers but revenge to love???, probably stupid, that's not a thing but you know what just read it to find out, violence and guns and shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2020-10-06 09:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20504696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houseofthedragon/pseuds/houseofthedragon
Summary: “Youwere the only error in an otherwise perfect plan. The only mistake I made. There is no winning for me in this anymore because even if everything goes right, I’ll still never see you again.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> another episode of "i really want to read this fic but no one's written it so i guess i have to do it myself" 🤷♀️🤷♀️🤷♀️
> 
> if anyone watches la casa de papel (or money heist) then this is literally jon and daenerys as raquel and sergio because their dynamic was just.....*chef's kiss* like you can't expect me not to try it with jonerys. if you don't watch that show that's fine, here's a heist or detective AU, whatever you wish to call it. jon is behind a heist. dany is the one working on the case. that's it. oh and it's pretty long. let me know your thoughts please i think i just died from trying to proofread this and i need some validation. the second part is even longer so yeah can someone tell me how to write one-shots which don't somehow turn out to be ~30k words? 🥵 i think i have a problem.

It started with a note.

At least, for Oberyn it did. Later he would learn that the others weren’t all contacted the same way. Some received a phone call, others an e-mail. All he got was a piece of paper found in the backseat of his car, not even too big to be noticeable right away. Only when he stepped out to take out the groceries did he notice the white card.

He was confused. Anyone would be. For that card to be there, someone must’ve broken into his car but strangely enough, there were no signs of forced entry – no broken window or even a broken door handle. His car was perfectly fine. In fact, he never learned how that note was put in there but that’s not important.

He picked it up, flipped it over, looked around. When the confusion subsided, he decided to read it. There was not much to read. Only the words ‘**I know what happened on may 19 2005. Meet me at the address below to finally do what you always wanted to do**’ written in big, block letters.

Oberyn had almost forgotten how to breathe right then and there. While the note was concise and to the point, the date twisted something sinister inside of him. A small matter he’d brush off as a prank by some kid in the neighbourhood suddenly turned into something serious and of the utmost importance.

So he waited until his wife came back home. In the meantime, he sat in the kitchen and inspected the note over and over until it was ingrained in his memory. He drank wine to help. But it was useless – in the end, it was just a printed note. A typical font. A basic piece of paper. There was no way to find out who sent it or how it got there or what the fuck it meant.

When Ellaria came home, Oberyn didn’t have time to tell her about it.

Because she already had a worried look on her face as she faced him. “Babe….”

Oberyn didn’t need to be told more. They understood each other in ways most people couldn’t. He knew, right then, that she got the same note. He lifted his up, watching as her face fell before she took a similar one out of her handbag and they stood there, facing each other wordlessly for a long moment.

***

Ten years.

That’s how long Jon had been planning for this moment. This exact day. This turning point in his life.

When he started out, he was only nineteen. Now, he was twenty-nine. He _grew _up doing this—planning this. And while he could plan every single little detail to crisp perfection, there was one thing he couldn’t accurately predict: human interactions.

Which would explain why his heartbeat got a tad bit faster as he checked his watch, knowing they’d all be here in less than five minutes. And he had no idea, if he was to be honest, how they would take everything he would go on to tell them.

Oberyn was the first to arrive. Approximately two minutes early. Jon was waiting for them outside the building in which, if all went well on this day, they’d be living for the next nine months of their lives. He’d done his research – this was one of the smallest villages of Westeros, with almost no connection to the outside world due to the very unreliable signals. A village of less than five hundred people. In other words, exactly what he needed.

Oberyn looked at him and stopped dead in his tracks. “You’re the one behind this?” he asked.

Jon took in a deep breath. “Yes.”

He looked down at his wife and together, they laughed. Jon expected that. After all, he’d been watching them for a moment now so, he knew what type of people they were.

If he wasn’t mistaken, Oberyn would even crack a rude joke about right now….

“Babe, I was intimidated by a guy who’s this fucking short,” he snorted.

_There. _

“Instead of basing your opinion of me off my height,” Jon answered serenely, “Base it off all the things I know about you two.”

The man’s smile began to waver. “I thought we were here to team up for something great. But you’re threatening me?”

“I’m not,” Jon replied honestly. “We _are _here for something great. But for that, I’m going to need you to respect me.”

“We don’t just respect people,” Ellaria said, her eyes as sharp as broken glass. “You have to earn it.”

And he would. Eventually, Jon would earn all of their respect – and trust. But for now, all he received were sceptical looks.

The Dornishman shifted on his feet. He was wearing a yellow button-up and a pair of black pants. He looked around carefully and stroked his beard before glancing back at Jon. “So, what is it?”

“We wait for the rest of the team,” Jon said.

One by one, they began to arrive. There was Tyrion Lannister, the dwarf who liked to drown in alcohol to forget that he was a jobless, depressed man whose wife left him for his own brother. Then there was Val who was more beautiful in real than in pictures. Then came Sandor Clegane—but he’d only ask you to call him ‘The Hound’ twice. The third time you messed up his name, he’d kill you.

They looked at one another owlishly, sharp glares perfectly combined with tense postures.

At last, like an idiot, Gendry Waters came running. His hair was messed up, flying in all directions, and he was panting like a dog. “S-sorry. Fuck, it was so hard to get a taxi around here,” he gasped and chortled but no one laughed.

“Well?” Val asked, ignoring him entirely. Her question was for Jon and Jon only. “What are we here for?”

Before they got down to business, Jon knew they had to break the ice. They were working _together _and what they were about to do would only succeed if they learned to trust one another. Blindly. Fully. He smiled at his new friends. “Who’d like a cup of tea?”

***

“Before we start, I have to ask you a very important question. What do you have to lose?”

Gendry made a sound in the back of his throat. “What does that mean?”

Jon leaned against the armrest of the chair he was supposed to sit on and watched them, looked at each of their faces carefully. “I’ll ask again. What do you have to lose? Let’s say, the worst-case scenario, you die during this….”

“Holy fuck,” Gendry gasped, “What _are_ we doing?”

“What do you have to lose?” Jon repeated.

“Okay, I’ll answer,” Oberyn said with an exasperated sigh, “My wife. That’s it. She is my entire life.”

“Oh, honey,” Ellaria cooed next to him, snuggling up against him. “That’s my answer as well.”

He didn’t expect anything else from these two. His eyes shifted to Tyrion on their left. His eyes met his and they looked dead. “Nothing,” he deadpanned.

“You have nothing to lose?” Jon asked.

“Not a single shit in my life is worth living for,” Tyrion declared and eyed the red liquid in his glass as if it was the most interesting thing in the entire universe. “Eh, actually, maybe wine. Yep. Wine is worth living for.”

Jon suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Next to Tyrion was Val. She blinked. “Um, same.”

Jon quirked a brow. “You have nothing left to live for either?”

“Yeah,” she said.

He inhaled deeply and sighed. “Now would be a great time to remind you all that I know everything about you. _Everything_. I know what you have to lose, this isn’t about getting to know you. I know enough. This is about trust, about finding out whether you trust me.” He looked at Val again and she was already evading his gaze, knowing he’d caught her. “So, I’ll ask again….”

“My mother,” she snapped. “Okay? Happy? My mother is the only thing I can’t bear to lose.”

Jon nodded. Moved to the next. Shaking like a leaf, Gendry Waters stuttered, “Dude, fuck. I don’t know! I love my life. Got so much shit to lose. My friends, grandma, dog! A-are we really going to die here? I can’t endanger these people!”

“According to my plan, you’re all going to get out alive,” Jon replied as truthfully as he could. “Again, this is just to break the ice.”

“We don’t need to fucking break the ice. Just tell us why we’re here,” growled The Hound.

Jon wasn’t moved by him raising his voice. “You’re next, anyway. So?”

“My brother,” he replied gruffly, a beat later. “I’m here for my brother. And he is the only thing I have to lose.”

Jon acknowledged that with a nudge of his head. “Well, finish your tea and we shall proceed to the classroom and officially begin.”

Before he could step out, Oberyn Martell asked, “What about you?”

Jon didn’t turn. “What about me?”

“What do _you_ have to lose?”

He slowly faced them. He even anticipated this question. “You all,” he answered.

“What?” Val asked, eyeing him like a specimen.

“I’m taking you guys on a very dangerous mission. I’m in charge of you now, of your lives and safety. You are my top priority and if anything were to happen to any of you, I’d hate myself for it,” Jon supplied.

The stunned silence followed him outside.

***

As Jon’s fingers worked on the chalk to write just one word on the blackboard, nobody was impressed.

“A heist?” Ellaria echoed. “This is what it’s about?”

Jon smiled. “A heist,” he confirmed, looking back at them.

“And whatever made you think we’d be okay with this?” Oberyn huffed.

“Because all of you here, except two, have one thing in common. You hate the Lannisters.”

This gave them pause. The blank expressions were quickly replaced with intrigued ones, quick looks exchanged amongst everyone. Jon was pleased to get the reaction he wanted.

“The Lannisters have power all over this country,” Tyrion stated blankly. “You think a heist will hurt them?”

“It will if we make it personal,” Jon answered coolly.

“And what are we attacking?” Gendry asked slowly.

Jon cleared his throat to say the next words loud and clear, “The Iron Bank.”

A wave of gasps followed by sarcastic laughter washed over the room. He gave them time to recover. Oberyn leaned forward, elbows on his knees, glaring at Jon. “Are you fucking with us? You think a bunch of losers like us will be able to rob this place? It’s literally a Lannister museum.” 

“Yes,” Jon smiled easily. “I do think a bunch of losers like us will be able to pull it off. And you’re right, we all know the value this place has to them. Not to mention it’s one of the richest locations in Westeros.”

“This is nuts,” Val said and smirked. “I’m in.”

“Let’s speak seriously. This is a cute dream and all but it’s insane,” said Tyrion. “You’ll never pull this off. I’m saying this as a Lannister. This is their most prized possession. If you’re even able to set one foot inside, you’ll never set it back out again alive. This is where they keep _everything, _where generations of Lannisters have kept their gold, their jewellery, their money. This place is worth over hundreds of millions.”

“Oberyn, your sister was raped by Jaime Lannister, wasn’t she?” Jon suddenly said, ignoring Tyrion’s pessimistic comment. “But nobody believed you in court. Elia is still traumatised to this day about what happened but the man who did it to her walked out freely. Because he’s a Lannister.”

The man whose skin shone like gold stiffened and bared his teeth. “You fucking—”

“The Hound,” Jon continued, ignoring the growl coming from the Dornishman, “your brother used to work for the Lannisters. He was handicapped in an unfortunate accident while trying to protect Joffrey Lannister and all the family did in return was fire him. They got away with it. And Tyrion…the only bad thing to ever come out of a Lannister, the saying goes. Not only do you bring your family nothing but shame but you fell in love with a woman who only wanted your money and once she set her eyes on Jaime, your handsome and richer brother, she never blinked in your direction again. And Jaime used that to mock you, is that right? And after that, he tossed her aside and married Cersei.”

The room grew ten times tenser if that was possible and there it was: all of their dirty little secrets out. The reasons that brought them all in this room, in this exact moment in time. “The Lannisters are terrible people,” Jon stated. “They’ve done horrible things. If we begin to look into the cases of frauds and blackmails, we’d be here for a week. But they get away with it. They always will. Because they were born in the right family."

“It’ll always be like this. Shitty politicians rule the world,” Oberyn said obscurely, “You want us to overthrow the fucking government?”

“I want us to be heard,” Jon responded. “This is about sending a message. To the lower classes, to the people who don’t have rich families to fall back on when all goes to shit. Just like none of us does. Oberyn, why couldn’t you fight your sister’s case? Because you weren’t filthy rich. And you, The Hound, why did you come here today? Because I mentioned money and the Lannisters. Because you still haven’t figured out a way to pay for your brother’s treatments. Being a bodyguard doesn’t help much, does it?” He faced Tyrion. “Money isn’t what you lack, Tyrion, but you’ve seen how low shame can bring you. I didn’t even need to mention anything. I just told you I had a way to make your family suffer like they made you suffer and you showed up here as I knew you would. You’re all here because you’re nobodies. Nobodies that the Lannisters hurt but will never be punished for because of who they are.”

“What about these two?” Ellaria asked, pointing to Gendry and Val.

Gendry lifted his arms in surrender. “I just came for the money.”

Jon chuckled. “Our two exceptions. No personal vendetta against the Lannisters but still, just like all of us, they’re underdogs as well. Gendry, here, is one of the best programmers I’ve had the honour of stalking.”

“That’s creepy,” Gendry said, “But so nice. Thanks, dude!”

Jon nodded in Val’s direction. “Trained in all sorts of fighting but she puts none of these talents to good use. I’ve been watching her for months now, or even a little over a year and all she does is rob people on the streets or at the markets.”

Val blushed. “Fuck you,” she muttered.

“I was complimenting you. Someone of your talents should be a part of something much greater,” he said.

“Just out of curiosity,” began Gendry, “How…long have you been planning this?”

“Ten years of my life went into this,” Jon said.

Ellaria inhaled deeply in shock, glancing at her husband. Even Oberyn sobered up.

“I’m serious about this,” Jon continued, “And I promise you that while I’m not hundred percent sure about the outcome, I know that this has a huge chance of working out. I’ve figured most of it out. Most. But I still need you. Each and every one of you.”

“The money,” Oberyn said, “We’re talking—”

“We’re talking big,” Jon finished before he could ask more. “_Huge_. This is the fucking jackpot_._”

“Count me in,” Gendry decided and pointed at Jon. “This guy sounds like he knows what he’s talking about and I’ll be honest, my life’s pretty fucking boring so a heist could be interesting.”

Tyrion shrugged half-heartedly. “Don’t see how a dwarf could help but sure.”

Jon hummed. “You’ll see.”

“I’m in,” The Hound muttered. “Anything to piss off the Lannister cunts.”

“Like you said, I’m meant for better things than just casual robbery,” Val said, smirking.

The only couple left looked at each other. Then Oberyn shook his head. “Money can’t drive me to do this. No matter how much,” he told Jon.

Jon wasn’t expecting that. Out of everyone, he had to admit he liked Oberyn the best. He was the fastest, the most cunning, the most frightening in his own way. Jon knew that he and Ellaria were crucial for this—they all were, really, but without these two, there’d be a huge difference. He would need to find somebody else, he would need to redo the whole plan.

And then, much to Jon’s surprise, Oberyn added, “But we’ll do it for the _message._”

“So, when do we start? What’s the plan, exactly?” Val asked.

“Oh, we’re not going anywhere yet.” Jon chuckled at them. “You’re going to be trained first.”

“How long?” Oberyn inquired.

“Nine months,” Jon replied.

“_Nine_ months?” echoed Gendry. “So, we’re doing this next year?”

“Yes. Nothing good comes out of being in a blind hurry. We’re going to go through this step by step because the only way this will fail is through the domino effect. One little mistake will lead to more and more will lead to us fucking up. At the end of these nine months, you guys will know more about the Iron Bank, heists and the Lannisters than anyone in the world.” Jon folded his arms over his chest, feeling lighter. He got through the hardest stage—introducing them to the heist. And nobody had run off yet. Now came the easy part. “So, class, let’s begin our first lesson. A bit on Lannister history.”

Tyrion groaned as if physical pain was being induced on him. “I’m going to need more wine for this.”

***

**nine months later. **

**one day before the heist,**

**5:31 pm.**

Daenerys hated the rain.

Many people find it relaxing, soothing even, to work when it’s raining outside. But as she sat behind her laptop in her favourite spot at her favourite café, all she found was that the rain ruined her mood. Made it dark and gloomy like the grey skies outside. She looked back at her laptop screen and groaned at the blinking cursor, the only thing present on an otherwise blank document.

“A long black for you,” said a familiar voice.

She looked up, smiling a bit at Davos Seaworth – the owner of this coffee shop and one of her only friends outside of the workforce. He was an old man with a lengthy grey beard and a soft voice but deep down, he had a young soul. Davos gave Daenerys some of the best advice she’d ever received in her life. “Thank you,” she said, wrapping her hands around the hot mug.

“Busy day for you?” Davos asked, raising an eyebrow at her laptop.

“I still haven’t written a single word for last week’s report.”

“The case about the teenager overdosing?”

“That’s him,” she said.

She’d always shared her work stories with the old man who loved listening to her. Of course, as a detective, she knew not to tell too much – even if she trusted Davos wholeheartedly — but it was still nice to sit down and speak with someone who wasn’t one of her colleagues or her old, sick mother. “I wish I could help you, Dany,” Davos offered, “Sadly, I doubt I could even write a whole sentence without making twenty spelling mistakes.”

Daenerys chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s fine. You being here is helpful. How’s Marya?” She loved hearing about Davos’ wife, about whom the grey-haired man still spoke with big, red hearts in his eyes.

“Ah, she’s wonderful. Yesterday she made these cookies that I adore.”

“At least one of us has an ongoing love life,” Daenerys said light-heartedly.

He rolled his eyes. “You’ll find love, darling. Look at you! Not even young Marya could compare.”

The silver-haired woman laughed. “Careful, Davos. I won’t be failing to mention this to her.”

He rolled his eyes jokingly and left her to get back to work. But all Daenerys did was fumble around on her keyboard and check her phone, annoyed at the sudden case of writer’s block she was having. Preparing reports was her least favourite part of the job. She’d rather be at a crime scene right now, as morbid as that was.

And _that _was how she met Jon Snow.

Or, to rephrase it, that was how he accidentally stumbled upon the leg of the table behind which she was sat and spilled some of his milkshake onto her arm. Of course, later she would learn that none of this happened accidentally. That his little gasp of surprise, the way his eyes grew wide as they met her own…every single thing about this encounter was calculated on his part. He’d gone over this situation hundreds of times in his head, anticipated every possible outcome this could bring. But for now, all she knew was that a stranger accidentally spilled his drink on her.

And she was furious.

The milk was sticky against her skin and much to her dismay, some of it got on her blouse, darkening the otherwise pale pink material, making it almost see-through.

“Oh gods,” the stranger had groaned, his voice deep and smooth. “I’m _so _sorry.” Come to think of it, he was an excellent actor because when she looked at him, she actually did feel back for how horrified and apologetic he looked and sounded.

“It’s okay,” she forced herself to say. “I’ll just go wash up.”

He’d nodded at her, grimacing. When she came back, he was sitting in her booth, waiting for her impatiently. Guilt was still written across his features. She awkwardly made her way to him.

“I’m really sorry,” he blurted again, “I didn’t look at where I was going and—”

“It’s fine, truly,” she insisted. Her blouse wasn’t ruined that badly and she was going home after this anyway.

“No, no. Please, let me buy you a cup of coffee,” he had pressed.

Daenerys smiled and pointed to the half-drank cup on her table.

He sighed. “A cookie then? Or—or a sandwich? Anything, ma’am, I feel like shit.”

She had chortled then and couldn’t help but find him adorable. He looked truly embarrassed, his cheeks turning a bit pink, his curly hair slipping from the knot he tied in the back, his bottom lip constantly being worried between his teeth as he looked up at her with big, puppy grey eyes.

If only she’d known he was anything but innocent at the time, that _she_ was the one getting made a fool of then, despite _him_ being the one who looked ashamed. “It’s fine, really. I’m just thankful none of it got on my laptop. And that the drink wasn’t hot.”

He breathed out in relief. “Okay, thanks.” He finally slid out from her booth and let her take a seat. Still, he hovered around unsurely. “Promise me that the next time we see each other you’ll let me buy you a drink because I still feel like shit.”

She’d grinned in amusement and muttered a friendly, “Alright. We have a deal,” simply because she’d never seen him around and was sure they wouldn’t run into each other again, and she only wished for him to forget about this incident.

He nodded his thanks and wished her a good day.

Daenerys recovered from this little accident quickly. In fact, she’d forget about Jon Snow—or at the time, simply a handsome and clumsy man she met at a café—and wouldn’t realise that he’d just executed another part of his plan perfectly.

***

**two weeks before the heist. **

**last training session, **

**8:17 pm.**

“More wine!”

The room roared in laughter at Sandor’s growled out demand. It took five months before he allowed them to call him Sandor.

Jon wouldn’t normally let them drink. For nine months, they’d been sober – although he was pretty sure the noises he heard every night meant some of them were sneaking out to have a drink – but today was their last day in this place and they deserved a celebration. A motivating party for what they were about to embark on.

Thus he organised this grandiose dinner for them. Around a large table on the terrace, the night sky clear and pitch black above them, a nice and sweet breeze soothing all of the pain they’d endured for so long.

“Does anyone else feel excited?” Gendry asked. “Like, holy fuck, we’re actually doing this. We’re fucking with the bloody Lannisters.”

“You just have a boring life, you said it yourself,” Val drawled. “What was the most interesting thing you’d done in your life before this? Fuck a girl?”

Everyone but Gendry chuckled at that while the boy’s cheeks turned crimson red. “No,” he muttered. “We tried anal, actually.”

Val laughed out loud. “You’re such an idiot.”

“I was sceptical when we started,” Tyrion said, “I’ll admit that and also, I’d given up hope for a life of scepticism. But then I met you all. I met Jon. It’s embarrassing, really, how much I believe in him. And in us.”

Jon smiled, deeply touched by Tyrion’s warm words.

“When I first saw Snow, I thought that there was no way in hell he could ever lead us into anything,” Oberyn declared, “But he was right. He did earn my trust. _And_ respect. So, yeah, we might fucking die out there or rot in a prison cell but these have been the best nine months of my life. And if all doesn’t go to shit then in two weeks we’ll be filthy rich so here’s to the heist!”

“To the heist,” they all echoed, raising their glasses.

Jon set his down and cleared his throat. “Now onto the last details….”

“It’s always back to business with him,” Sandor whined in a gruff voice.

Jon raised a brow. “It has to be.” He took in a deep breath. “When all will be set, the Lannisters will begin to contact the authorities. According to my calculations, they’ll want Daenerys Targaryen to cover the case.”

“Who?” Ellaria asked.

“Daenerys Targaryen,” Jon repeated and took out the folder he’d brought along with him. He placed it on the table and slid it to them and they were all quick to open the documents, scanning them carefully. “She’s one of the best investigators in King’s Landing and she’s a Targaryen.”

“Wasn’t her father….”

“Aerys,” Jon completed for Val, “Yes. He was Tywin Lannister’s best friend and a politician as well, just like the Lannisters. These two families have been tied together for years now. In the past, they had her take care of a silly robbery case. It’s obvious she’s their go-to. Plus Daenerys has a brother. Rhaegar. He’s a lawyer. He is Cersei Lannister’s lawyer, to be precise. It’s pretty clear to me that there is a very, very high chance of them putting Daenerys on the case.”

“And the slim chance that they don’t?”

“Then we’re fucked,” Jon huffed. Then sighed. “They will, guys. I know they will.”

“Nice,” said Val. “But I don’t see why you’re showing us this.”

“Because Daenerys is an important part of this. Once you’re inside, the Lannisters won’t be your enemies. _She_ will. It’s important that I find a way to get into her head.”

“Wait,” Oberyn cut him off, “What do you mean by when _we_ are inside? You’ll be inside as well.”

Jon sniffed. “No.”

“_What_?” Most of them sneered in unison, the peace and quiet torn apart just like that.

“That’s fucking rich. So you’re not even going to participate in the heist?” Val snapped.

“Of course I will. I’m the head of this operation,” he chose to respond calmly.

“It’s easy to fight a war when you’re not on the battlefield,” Sandor growled.

“Sandor—”

“Fuck it. It’s The Hound again for you, cunt.”

Jon sighed. “You guys are misunderstanding me.”

“We’ve trusted you,” Oberyn said, “And you choose to tell us this now? When we’re so close to the big day? We were all in this together, now you’re changing the plan—”

“That was always the plan,” Jon snapped back, shutting them up once and for all. “I chose not to tell you guys because I knew you’d react like this. What good will it do us if we’re all trapped inside? When shit goes wrong, who gets us out then? I need to be out. I need to be in control. There needs to be a player who moves the chess pieces.”

“So we’re the disposable pieces?” growled Oberyn.

“That was a bad metaphor,” Jon admitted gently.

“He isn’t wrong,” Tyrion noted. “It’s better that he has another view of the investigation. Which he won’t be able to have if we’re all inside.”

Jon nodded and realised, then, that they were worried. “I will not let anything happen to you,” he promised, the tone of his voice firm. “I’ve reminded you all of this over and over. You are my priority.”

A beat passed, one filled with tension. Then Ellaria broke the silence. “We trust you.”

Oberyn looked at his wife suspiciously but she maintained her stare. Eventually, he deflated.

“Oberyn?” Jon pushed. “Is it okay with you, then?”

“Nine months ago, I’d beat your ass,” he answered roughly, “But…Ellaria’s right. You’ve proven yourself a worthy leader and I trust you. So we’ll follow the plan.”

Jon was happy with the response he got. “Thank you,” he told him sincerely.

“Since tonight’s the night we’re telling the last truths, how about you tell us why you started this?” Tyrion questioned. “We all more or less have valid reasons. Vengeance, money, money _and_ vengeance. But to start something as such…gods, what _has_ my family done to you?”

Jon froze under their scrutiny, taken aback by the turn in this conversation. He’d gotten away with it for so long yet it came back to bite him in the arse all the same.

“Truth and trust and all that shit you’ve been preaching to us for months now,” Gendry whistled, “Time for you to apply all of that to yourself, right?”

Jon nodded, his collar feeling hot and tight around his throat. He decided to go for it, readying himself mentally for the tale. “My father died one night when he was coming back from work. He was on his bicycle and was hit by Jaime Lannister and his drunk friends. He’d died on the spot. When I was eight, I woke up to the news that he was dead. Not like most people wake up to such news, though, I awoke to lawyers and big men in black suits wearing sunglasses in my house, making my grandfather and grandmother sit down on the couch and telling them that in exchange of their silence, in exchange of pretending that this never happened, they would be paid hundreds of thousands of gold coins. The elections were near, they explained, and Jaime’s campaign couldn’t be tainted by a silly mistake he made.

“Those were their exact words too. _Silly mistake_. That was what my father was to them. Jaime didn’t even bother showing up but his lawyers made sure to deliver his sincerest apologies to my weeping grandma. They didn’t leave them much choice, promising that they’d regret not accepting this offer. Who could blame these two old people for being scared of such a threat? Especially since they had to raise me, they needed the money. So they agreed. The money was more than enough to last them a lifetime and even save some for my education. The money, according to them, was enough to pay for my father’s bloodied corpse that they’d briefly showed my grandfather and grandmother.

“I didn’t see it. My grandparents wouldn’t let me. I just watched from afar. They had to take away the body because they couldn’t even trust us with it. I still don’t know what happened to the body. But it doesn’t matter, does it? They knew what they were doing. Our silence only had to be bought temporarily. In the future, it wouldn’t matter if it got out because who would people believe? Some random dude whose father was said to have died in a tragic car accident, as established by his grandparents years ago, when the incident occurred, or the perfect, charismatic and charming Jaime Lannister? It’d be my word against his.”

“Oh,” Gendry said slowly, his dark eyes searching Jon’s, delivering sympathy and shock, “That’s….”

“Fucked up,” Val breathed out.

Jon couldn’t really tell if he felt good talking about it. He’d always locked up his feelings about the matter, to the point that he just felt numb now. But he knew that to instil trust, he had to work with them as well.

“What was your father’s job?” Oberyn asked quietly, staring at the plate in front of him, clearly moved by the story.

“He was a farmer,” Jon replied. “We weren’t rich, you know, the most ironic thing is…the reason I’m standing here today is because of the Lannisters. Without their money, I never would’ve been able to finish school or attend university. That wasn’t something I even considered while my dad was alive. I knew I’d end up in a farm just like him.”

“This has been your life goal, then? Avenging your father?” Sandor wondered, watching Jon attentively.

“Yes,” Jon simply admitted because there was no way around it. “Perhaps he wouldn’t want me to do this. Perhaps…he’d hate it. But I’ll never know, will I? He’s dead anyway.”

***

**the heist – day 01,**

**7:02 am. **

Val drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, staring idly at the empty streets ahead. A yawn was forming in the back of her throat when Jon’s voice startled her in the earpiece she wore. “Is he here?”

“No,” she answered. “He isn’t getting out of the house.”

“Uh, apparently he fights with his wife a lot so it’s probably just fighting day for him. Stay alert.”

Val cracked a smile. “You stalked the bus driver too?”

“He’s the most important part of this plan. If this doesn’t start out well, we’re fucked. So of course I did.”

“You’re something else, Jon Snow.”

“Focus, Val.”

She rolled her eyes.

He could be so bloody uptight, she didn’t know if that was sexy or just downright annoying. But who was she kidding – Jon Snow _was_ sexy. That should’ve been the last thing on her mind during these nine excruciating months of training and learning with him but that thought always shone through the bad ones. There was something about Jon that she couldn’t describe. He was this dark, brooding guy who liked to observe everything with those unmoving grey eyes of his more than he liked to open his pretty mouth to speak. He was quiet, frustratingly so sometimes, but one shouldn’t mistake that for him not being smart enough. That was what got to her. He was so fucking smart and cunning, things she couldn’t tell from the first time she saw him.

Oh, and he fought _good_.

That bit surprised her the most. She’d always assumed he’d leave the physical parts of the training for someone else – maybe Sandor Clegane – but Jon was the one to teach them how to shoot, Jon was the one who taught Tyrion how to at least learn to defend himself, Jon was also the one to give them medical lessons for when someone got shot or stabbed or any other scenario that could occur. This man was good at _everything _from brains to muscles. She really wanted to fuck him.

She tried to. On one of these lonely nights, she’d thought that she could seduce him. He’d kissed her back, too, which was great and all. But when she began unzipping his pants, he had grabbed her hands to still her. “You’re beautiful,” he claimed.

She rolled her eyes. “But you won’t fuck me.”

“No,” he confirmed which made her groan in annoyance for getting her worked up and leaving her like this. Fucking tease. “The last thing needed in such operations is feelings.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t feel anything for you. I just wanted us to fuck because I’ve been stuck here for months now and I haven’t had a dick inside of me,” she’d snarled at him.

He placed a tender kiss on her lips. “I’m sorry,” he apologised before leaving.

He left her sexually frustrated for the rest of these months, that asshole.

But she couldn’t even hate him for it because he was too damned respectful about it. Hating Jon was like hating a puppy. Granted, a puppy who was planning a heist but _still_, he was a good man and she could use some of these in her life.

At the moment, however, she had to push back thoughts of Jon Snow from her mind because at last, the bus driver was coming out of his house. “He’s here,” Val said, surprised by the sudden pulse of nervousness beating hard in her chest.

“You’re on,” Jon said. “Good luck, Val.”

Val nodded to herself, swallowed hard, and stepped out of her car, making sure to pull her shirt down to hide the gun strapped at her waist. “Hey! Wait up,” she called out.

The fat man looked at her quizzically. “Um? You’re—”

She was by his side swiftly and smiled prettily at him. “Do you know the way to a gym around here? I’m new in town and have no idea.”

The man blinked. “Sure. There’s one just down the—” As he pointed across the streets, Val inched closer to him and with a click, she had the head of the gun pressed against his torso. He froze and inhaled loudly, his hands and arms already shaking.

“Don’t move,” she whispered. “Give me the keys to the bus.”

“W-w-wha—”

“I said, give me the keys to the school bus. If you shout, I’ll shoot you. If you don’t hand them over, I’ll shoot you. If you shut up, hand me the keys and step aside, I’ll let you go.”

He took them out with shaky fingers and Val snatched them from him. She pressed the gun harder against his skin and he gasped in shock, trembling. The road was empty for now but she couldn’t lose time. She had to act fast. “This won’t hurt, just don’t struggle too hard,” she mumbled and wrapped a cloth around his mouth. The man jerked in her arms but Val gritted her teeth and pressed the piece of fabric harder against his mouth and nose until he became limp. Jon assured her that he’d awake after about two or three hours. It took some effort for Val to drag him the car in which she arrived but she succeeded in getting him in the backseat and closing the door. Maybe someone would find him, maybe he’d wake up later and run out screaming. It didn’t matter. She had to get going.

Jon was back in her ear when she began driving. “You in?” he asked.

“All set,” she answered. “Second phase is on.”

“I’m proud of you, Val,” Jon said and it made her smile.

***

Val kept her eyes on the road as the students climbed in the bus. She didn’t want to look at their faces, knowing what was about to befall them. She wasn’t a softie, far from it, but she couldn’t afford being weak for even a moment.

A teacher glanced at her weirdly as he entered. “Uh, sorry, ma’am…I thought Mr. William was driving us today?”

Val smiled surely, as she had been trained to do. “It’s alright. I’m his daughter, actually. Dad fell sick this morning and asked me to take over because he didn’t want to put you guys through the trouble of cancelling.”

The teacher nodded. “Ah. That’s very nice of him, thank you.”

The next instant, Jon’s voice crept through her ear, “That was good. Have you spotted Joffrey yet?”

Val hummed. “He went to sit at the back,” she mumbled, “Where all the bad kids go. He’s making the most noise as well.”

“Alright, good. When you arrive at the Iron Bank, don’t forget to place the chip on the keypad at the gate. Gendry will hack into the system and find a way to open the gates for their truck. Once everyone is inside, we’ll move to the next phase.”

“I know what I’m supposed to do,” she told him.

“You can never make a plan too perfect,” was what he answered.

**8:39 am. **

Gendry was focused on his computer, waiting for it to connect the moment Val would do what she had to do. But next to him, Sandor Clegane was burning with impatience. “This part was supposed to be completed by eight thirty,” he declared, irritated.

“Calm down,” Oberyn said gently, lacing his boots. They were going in as delivery men and had to dress up as such – with fake badges and everything. It filled Gendry with excitement, he’d always seen such things in movies and TV shows but never thought in a billion years that he’d be the IT guy in a real-life scenario. “The plan’s going just fine.”

“Until I’m not inside the fucking Iron Bank, then nothing is going just fine,” Clegane huffed.

“It’s connecting!” Gendry blurted.

Everyone gathered around him.

“I’m done, Gendry,” Val said into his ear.

His fingers tingled as he began typing. “Can you not breathe into my neck?” he snapped at Sandor, “It’s distracting me.”

With another annoyed huff, the big man moved away. They all did, actually, and gave Gendry the space he needed. This was his element, he couldn’t fuck this up. They were all counting on him.

“Do this thing they do in movies,” Ellaria suggested playfully, “where they dramatically say ‘I’m in’.”

Gendry rolled his eyes but gave her what she wanted. “I’m in!” he exclaimed.

His friends laughed.

“Seriously, I’m done. Anything we type in will open the gates for us now,” Gendry said.

They knew what they had to do now.

**8:58 am**.

“Delivery?” The guard asked. “I don’t think there’s any delivery for today.”

“Look, Todd,” Gendry sighed.

“It’s Tom.”

“Same thing,” Gendry insisted with a roll of his eyes. “I’m just doing my job. If you wanna get your ass fired by the Lannisters when they learn that you’ve refused to let me to deliver all the….” _Shit, what the fuck were they delivering? _“Gold,” he finished unsurely, “I have then that’s your problem.”

Tom scratched his white beard and shrugged. “Whatever. Get in.” He plugged his earphones right back in.

“That was easy,” Oberyn muttered next to him and Gendry hid a smirk.

At last, they were inside. The gates closed behind them and Jon Snow exhaled a sigh of relief in their earpieces.

**9:23 am. **

Val was finding it harder and harder to feel any sympathy for Joffrey Lannister. This kid was a cunt. There was no other way to put it. Her task was to keep a close eye on him until the rest got inside. And all she’d heard him do so far was talk about how rich and great he was going to be.

“I’ll own this place one day,” he declared to a pretty girl, his voice cocky. “Everything here is mine.”

“Even this?” The girl pointed to the crown that was displayed in one of the many shelves.

“Of course,” he had scoffed. “Everything here belongs to my family.”

Val rolled her eyes. If she had to hear him talk about his family one more time, she’d turn the gun on herself.

At last, the rest arrived. The students and teachers were too busy admiring the place to notice Gendry, Oberyn, Ellaria, Tyrion and The Hound come in. They blended in easily too, their yellow uniforms working perfectly to evade the security guards’ watchful gazes. Once they were inside, they got in place. They had to cover the whole area—most importantly, the three exits. Tyrion met her eyes and she gave him a small, sly smile. Once everyone was set, Val slowly curled her hand around the gun at her hip. Her pulse stuttered wildly and adrenaline began coursing in her veins, her body well aware of what she was about to do.

Still, she waited for Jon’s signal. Patiently. They all did.

“_Now_.”

On a whim, she locked her arm around Joffrey Lannister’s neck, registering the boy’s gasp as she held him in a chokehold—not tight enough to kill him, although she did consider doing that because he was so fucking annoying, but tight enough to keep him held against her chest as she used her right hand to point the gun at his temple.

The nice, friendly atmosphere collapsed around them. Shouts erupted, cries were heard, people started running. “Stop!” she yelled. “_Nobody_ move.”

Gendry took out his guns, pointing them at the security guards at the main entrance and Oberyn guarded the backdoor with the rifle he’d grown to love during training.

Ellaria, Sandor and Tyrion had their guns in place, aiming at random people, making sure everyone stayed frozen in pace. Eventually, the brusque movements came to an end but shaky breaths and whimpers could still be heard. Sandor and Tyrion departed up the stairs to make sure everyone was right here in this room and not hiding somewhere else.

Joffrey was struggling in her grasp, digging his nails into her arm, hard enough to draw blood. “Stop it,” she hissed, pressing the metal harder against his head. “I’ll blow your fucking brains out if you move an inch.”

He started crying. Sobbing silently.

“Hello everyone,” she greeted.

Nobody responded.

Val rolled her eyes. “I know you’re all scared. As you should be. But trust me when I say this, as long as you follow our instructions, nothing will happen. Nothing. But try one funny thing and we will kill _all_ of you.”

She took a hard, long look at each petrified face in the room and smiled. “Now, I need all the security guards of this place to lower their weapons. Guns, tasers, knives…whatever you have. Place them all on the ground.”

The man looked at each other, as if questioning what to do.

“Now!” she warned, lightly grazing the trigger.

“Do as she says,” Joffrey shrieked. “Do what she says, _everyone_!”

“Okay…okay,” one of the guards said, gently lowering the gun and taser he had. The other one followed suit.

“Gendry,” Val instructed, “Check them.”

Gendry hated violence. They’d learned that much about him during training but right there and then, he put up an act of confidence as he probed the men for more weapons, his own gun remaining pointed at each of their heads. He stepped back and nodded. “All is clear.”

Tyrion and Sandor came back to them a few minutes later. “We found three other guards,” the dwarf informed her, “We locked them up already.”

“Good. Take these two with you,” Val said, nodding toward the guards at the door.

Sandor and Tyrion obliged.

“P-please let me go,” cried Joffrey, whining. “M-m-my parents will give you all the money you want.”

“Shut up,” Val ordered.

“Pl-_please_—”

“SHUT UP.”

The silence that followed was poignant, every hostage flinching in fright.

“Oops,” Oberyn said, cracking up, “Seems like Joffrey had a little accident.”

Val glanced down at the frightened boy in her arms and then down further and groaned. He just peed his pants.

Ellaria, Gendry and Oberyn all joined in the mocking laughter and Val bit her lip to suppress her own but failed, chuckling along. Nobody was laughing with them, of course, and they were probably the monsters in this situation but it felt good to bring shame to a Lannister. Too good to deny. “Alright, alright,” Val cleared her throat, “We need all of you to hand over your phones and drop to the ground.”

“Don’t hurt the kids,” the teacher—the one who had smiled at Val this morning—said, eyes brimming with tears. “_Please_.”

Val clenched her teeth. “Do as I say,” she answered firmly.

And they did.

Oberyn and Ellaria began locking all the doors, making sure this place was sealed and locked away.

When it was, Val allowed herself a victorious smile. They just got through one of the hardest parts. She tapped on her earpiece, activating the microphone so she could tell Jon, “We’re good to go.”

**11:23 am.**

She was working on a minor case when she received the call. Daenerys pushed herself away from the desk behind which she was sitting to roll over to the phone. She picked it up and monotonously greeted, “Detective Targaryen, hello?”

“Daenerys,” a female voice said, the tone laced with concern and horror, “It’s Cersei.”

Daenerys straightened herself, clutching the phone tighter. “Mrs Lannister?”

“Yes.” There was a lot of noise behind her. “The Iron Bank…it’s being robbed.”

“_What_?”

“Joffrey’s inside. They have hostages,” she hurriedly finished. “My son,” she repeated and this time broke down, her cries echoing in Daenerys’ ears, who was too stupefied to move.

The phone was snatched from the weeping mother and then, a grave voice was speaking to her. “Daenerys? It’s Jaime. We need you here. _Now_.”

Daenerys nodded, shaking herself out of the self-induced daze. She still couldn’t quite grasp what was happening but there was no time for more explanation. She quickly affirmed, “I’m on my way.”

This is why someone in her position should never complain about a boring day at work.

**1:03 pm. **

Her colleagues greeted her formally at the scene.

“Ma’am,” Greyworm — her assistant and partner — nodded at her as she stepped out of her car.

Daenerys looked around, scowling at the crowd already gathered around the building. She could spot cameramen for news channels and reporters with big microphones, busying themselves with gathering the scoop. “Clear the perimeter,” she ordered. Greyworm passed the instruction to the concerned people and turned back to her.

“How long have they been inside?” she asked.

“Nearing two hours now,” he replied.

“Anybody wounded?”

“Not that we know of. No gunshots heard either.”

“And what do we know of the robbers?”

“Nothing. We have no idea who’s inside.”

“The hostages?”

“We’re getting a list of all the students and employees of the Iron Bank.”

Daenerys nodded. “So we have nothing useful then.”

Greyworm pressed his lips together in silent agreement.

Before she could make more inquiries, Cersei Lannister was moving in her direction at full speed, her eyes wide and red, just like her dress. She stopped just in front of Daenerys and grabbed at her shoulders, surprising the detective. “Daenerys!” she cried. “Joffrey’s in there.”

Greyworm awkwardly moved away and Daenerys almost wanted to scold him for leaving her alone in this. She looked back at Cersei, understanding her pain. “I’m so sorry,” she offered sympathetically, “We’ll do our best.”

“You need to do more,” Jaime said behind her. “This is a personal attack.”

“We don’t know that,” Daenerys said.

Jaime frowned. “Yes we do. They chose to attack the Iron Bank, specifically on the day Joffrey’s class went to visit it. This is not just a heist, this is revenge. They have our son. They have our fortune. Do you know how much money is in there in terms of gold?”

“I understand your concerns and we’re opening the investigation right away.” Daenerys knew it was never right to make promises to victims’ families. There was that one time, when she’d just started out, she promised a girl’s parents that they would find their daughter and bring her home safe and sound. Instead, they found the little girl’s body dumped in a lake after having been raped. Daenerys never recovered from the disappointment in the mother’s face when she learned the truth. From that day, she strayed away from being emotionally involved in cases. She had to act professional and factual. She could promise to do her best but she couldn’t promise to succeed. “I know getting back your son is the biggest priority here.”

Jaime looked away. “And not letting them escape with a cent.”

She understood, then, that Joffrey alone wasn’t the highest priority. They wanted to make sure their fortune remained intact as well.

She was no one to judge so she didn’t.

“Detective!”

They all glanced at the source of the new voice. It was Greyworm once more, although there was a flash of panic across his features. “What is it?” she asked.

“It’s one of the people inside,” he panted, “They wish to speak with the lead investigator.”

Daenerys blinked. Then proceeded to follow him, albeit still thoroughly befuddled. Usually, it was them who would seek contact with the robbers not the other way round.

They entered the camp that had been set for the investigation and Cersei and Jaime followed, even if they weren’t allowed inside. But Daenerys didn’t have time to remind them that this was a police zone only, she rushed to grab the telephone, bringing it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hello.” _Of course they’d use a voice changer. _

Daenerys closed her eyes at the sound of the robotic voice. She signalled for them to bring her a chair and a pen which they did. Sitting down, Daenerys pulled out her notepad and held the pen in hand as she said, “Why did you want to speak with me?”

“So you are the lead detective?”

“I am.”

“Ah, well, let me tell you one thing,” the person began and everyone listened attentively—since the call was being played in loudspeakers as well—all the policemen, women and investigators gathering around her.

“Yes?” Daenerys pressed, like a dog begging for a treat.

“You have a gorgeous voice,” was what they said. “I bet the face that goes with it is even more beautiful.”

Daenerys slumped back in the chair defeatedly.

Jaime was seething, looking ready to pounce but Daenerys held up a hand, making sure he remained silent. The important part about a negotiation is not scaring or angering the person on the other line. They were the one with their finger on the trigger. “Why, are you interested in a video call then? You could get a clear look at my face.”

The caller laughed. Daenerys looked up at Greyworm and mouthed, “Try tracing where the call comes from.”

He nodded and went to work.

“You’re quick, I like that,” the person said, the voice too distorted to even figure out if it was a male or a female. “What’s your name?”

“Daenerys Targaryen,” she answered casually, “And yours?” She knew the person wouldn’t give it away just like that but hey, she had nothing to lose and absolutely everything to gain from this conversation. So she waited for an answer, her pen in hand, ready to jot anything down.

“You can call me The White Wolf.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright,” she said calmly. “You sound very at ease with me so this can only mean two things. You’ve either done this before hence you know how it works or you’ve done enough excessive research to know how this works. Either way, you’re well aware of how negotiations work. So, what do you want?”

“I know,” they deflected, “you’re supposed to listen to the person you’re negotiating with. Pretend you understand them—sympathise with them. Don’t scare them. Don’t threaten them. Be their friend. Am I getting my facts right here, ma’am?”

She locked her jaw. “Precisely. You did not answer my question.”

“What I want? What does everyone in the world want?”

“Money?” she guessed.

“To be heard.”

Daenerys looked up at Cersei and Jaime who only looked confused.

“Is this personal?” she inquired. “Do you have something against the Lannisters?”

“You’re going too fast here and we both know you don’t get to choose in this situation so let’s slow it down a bit.”

She inhaled to calm her nerves. “Release the teenagers.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Daenerys said blankly, “You’re smart. If you release the kids, we can do something for you in return. If you release them, it proves that you don’t mean intentional harm. This can play a big role when this will go to court and can reduce your sentence.”

“Oh, so you think you’re going to catch us?”

Daenerys cocked her head to the side. “You don’t?” she asked. “This will either end in bloodshed or with you in prison. Which one do you choose?”

“Neither,” they answered and hung up.

Daenerys wasted no time in getting up to find Greyworm. He sighed at his laptop screen. “It’s from the inside,” he said.

She frowned. “They’re calling us to negotiate from the inside?”

“Yes.”

“What did that call mean?” Jaime asked, reminding Daenerys that they were in here.

She turned to them and shook her head. “You guys should leave,” she suggested, “We need to work.”

“Our son is inside,” Cersei sneered. “And this person was joking on the phone.”

“It’s just a façade,” Daenerys swore, “Sometimes they choose to appear sure of themselves to throw us off.”

“Daenerys,” Jaime said her name slowly, almost warningly, “Your father and mine were like brothers. If he was here today, he would be devasted that this is happening. We chose you because we believe in you and you mean a lot to us. We trust you. Please, you have to help us.”

“I know,” she told him, “I will do everything I can to get Joffrey and the rest out of there. Everything.” She lay emphasis on every word and held his gaze so he knew how truthful she was being. “But you being here isn’t going to help me or anyone else.”

At last, the husband and wife nodded comprehensively.

“Call Rhaegar,” Daenerys proposed before they left, “This will most likely be a big case.”

Daenerys turned back to her team and clapped her hands once to catch their attention. “Try to connect to any device inside the Iron Bank. Get me a list of all the people inside, workers and students. Contact their families. Find a link, a pattern. And let’s begin with a list of suspects. Before tonight, we need at least _one_ suspect.”

**7:29 pm. **

Her head was killing her. She felt like slamming it against the wall to relieve the dull throb in the back of her skull, the one which wasn’t going anywhere no matter how hard she clenched her teeth or for how long she shut her eyes.

On her diary, a few sentences were written down in a jumbled mess.

_Joffrey Lannister, 17, dirty blond hair._

_Most of the other classmates known._

_Bus driver knocked off in a car, only memory is young blonde girl who held a gun to him – couldn’t provide accurate description due to shock. She was wearing sunglasses. _

_How many inside???_

_Caller – used a voice changer. Can’t even tell if a male or female. But most likely a male. <strike>A fucking asshole. </strike>Was looking to destabilise me. Seems to know what they’re doing. Confident. Did not sound scared. _

Behind the counter, Davos was making her drink. “Give it a rest, darling. You’ve worked hard enough for tonight.”

“I can’t,” she said. There were a bunch of innocent kids trapped in a building as they spoke, being held at gunpoint. She had to solve this.

“Daenerys,” Davos said calmly, “Have I ever told you about this horrible habit that you have?”

She looked up at him. “What?”

“You blame yourself for everything. Every case that goes unsolved, it takes a part of you with it. You beat yourself down, acting like you’re responsible for the things out of your control. You’re already starting to do this right now and I need you to stop.” He paused. “_You _are the good guy here, don’t forget that.”

Slowly but surely, she allowed herself to relax. Not entirely, but enough for her shoulders to slump and eventually the ache in her skull began to subside. He always knew how to find the right words. “Thank you, Davos.”

As she went to retrieve money from her handbag, the stool next to her was pulled and a deep voice spoke up. “Count that on me. I’ll take one as well.”

She looked up so fast she might’ve snapped her neck. There he was again, Jon Snow, but at the time only known to her as that handsome stranger who spilled his drink on her hand.

He gave her an easy but sheepish smile. “You promised you’d let me buy you a drink.”

“Oh please,” she waved him off, embarrassed. “You don’t have to. I was just saying that.”

“A promise is a promise,” he pressed.

She realised that there was clearly no escape from him. Not with how his dark eyes were intently watching her, anyway. So she sighed and smiled. “Fine. Thank you.”

He had a nice smile, one which showed just a hint of his teeth, and she looked away before it turned into a weird staring contest. Davos looked at them with an almost teasing smile and Daenerys resisted the urge to roll her eyes – the old man had been trying to get her a boyfriend for so long now it became a ritual of his to try and set her up to speak with any attractive man who walked into the café. As if her life wasn’t weird enough with a seventy-year-old man being her closest friend, he had to also play cupid.

Before the pleasantries could continue, Daenerys’ attention was drawn to the small TV on the wall as the news reporter announced, “And the most important news of the day: A class of thirty students held captive in the Iron Bank, the largest Lannister property, along with two teachers and all the working staff of the place. So far, the police have no information about the robbers nor do they have a full list of all the hostages. But among the unfortunate kids, one is confirmed: Joffrey Lannister, the son of Cersei and Jaime Lannister.” An image of the young man flashed across the screen before it transitioned to Cersei Lannister crying.

“We just want our son back,” she wept, “They can keep the money, the gold, everything else. Just release Joffrey.”

“And the other innocent children,” Jaime butted in, rubbing Cersei’s arms soothingly.

The reporter was back on screen. “It is understandable that distressed parents are concerned for their kids’ safety after this trip gone to hell but for now, that is all the information we have. We’ll leave you with Butler for the weather….”

Daenerys looked away, zooming out again.

“That’s terrible,” the curly-haired man uttered.

“It is,” she found herself agreeing, tone blank, her mood ruined once more.

“How do you think the police will handle that?”

Her eyes snapped to his. “I beg your pardon?”

He met her eyes and shrugged. “Oh, you know…the authorities have always been shit at dealing with such matters. Always caused more harm than good. I can only hope this time they handle it well.”

She was so surprised by his forwardness she was ready to call him out on it, fully believing that he was meaning to insult her and her profession. Only then did she come to the conclusion that he couldn’t possibly know her job since she wasn’t wearing her uniform. Daenerys felt herself relax from her attack mode when she understood that he wasn’t aware of who she was.

But Davos was quick to let him know. “You probably dealt with the shit part of the authorities,” he drawled as he served them their hot cups of coffer, “But this one right here…she’s a champ. She’ll crack this in no time.”

Daenerys sipped quietly, waiting for Jon to finally realise that she was also a cop.

When he did – or, when he pretended that he did – Jon made a strangled sound of surprise that would’ve driven Daenerys to laughter were she not so preoccupied by the heaviness of the heist resting on her morale. “Oh sh—shoot. You’re a police officer, huh?” he asked, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

She took out her badge and flashed it before him for good measure, watching as he shut his eyes in humiliation. Daenerys allowed herself a little smile. “I am leading the case as the primary investigator,” she announced, “And you’re allowed to swear in front of the police, you know.”

He covered his face with both of his hands and she was amused by his reaction. “I feel like I just keep embarrassing myself in front of you,” he had lamely declared.

“You’re not wrong, though. About us often mishandling the cases.”

He looked down at his drink. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“No, trust me, if I was offended you’d know about it.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “One question, aren’t you supposed to keep unsolved cases private?”

“I am,” she smiled darkly, “But this one has already gotten out of hand. Me being the investigator will be public knowledge tomorrow when a whole TV crew will shove their cameras and mics at my face.”

He hummed pensively. “Ah. That sounds stressful.”

“It is.”

Daenerys found herself looking into the grey depths of his irises once more, he had such a deep stare, as if he could see right _through_ her instead of looking _at_ her.

“I’m Jon,” he introduced himself finally, lifting his hand for her to shake. “Jon Snow.”

She shook it with a smile, their first but not last physical contact. “Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Forgive me. You must be very busy right now, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not, I’m off duty,” she answered, not knowing why she wanted him to stay for a bit longer. She was just so tired already and craved a little distraction before she had to drown herself in work again. “The longest heist in Westeros lasted three days and five people were killed. It was clearly a failure.”

“I know.”

“You do?” she gazed at him curiously. “Many people don’t remember such things. When it happens, it gets hyped up and then after that, it dies down and people stop caring.”

“I’m actually learning about crimes and statistics.”

“You’re a….”

“A writer.”

“Oh.”

“Or as others might say, unemployed,” he joked.

She bit down on her lower lip and he said, “It’s alright, you can laugh.”

She allowed a small chuckle to escape her mouth. “You’re writing a crime book?” she asked.

“No, sci-fi actually.”

She nodded and checked her watch instinctually. “I need to go but if you ever need more information about crimes in Westeros, I’d be happy to help.” Internally, she cringed. Did this count as flirting? Gods, she hadn’t flirted with a man in so long she couldn’t even tell the difference between her being nice or intentionally trying to charm one. He was a pretty man, for sure, but at the moment she had higher priorities—like the heist weighing on her mind.

“It’d be my pleasure to hear more from you, detective,” he lightly replied, cheekily smiling at her.

She walked out with the strange feeling that she was forgetting something.

***

**two days before the heist, **

**5:48 pm. **

“I’ll be changing the address,” Gendry explained, “so that when they try to trace it back, it’ll show as being inside of the Iron Bank.”

“So they’ll think I’m calling from inside?” Jon asked.

Gendry nodded.

“Good, that’s what I needed.” He cleared his throat. “As for my voice….”

“You have a pretty standard voice, I don’t see why you need to change it,” Oberyn commented behind them, stuffing his mouth with pizza that he would ‘miss more than anything else’ once inside, as he’d put it himself.

“Because I’ll be speaking with Daenerys Targaryen,” Jon said, “Someone I’ll also be talking to outside of the case. You can guess why I don’t want her to recognise my voice.”

“A voice changer can be easily implemented,” Gendry commented and with that, went back to his computer to do as requested.

“What are you going to do with that Daenerys, anyway?” Val questioned, raising a sharp, curious eyebrow in his direction. “She’s not to be a victim of our revenge, is she?”

“No,” Jon had replied. “But she’s crucial to the case. If I can get close to her, I’ll be getting close to the mind which is trying to solve the case and it’ll be easier to lead her astray.”

“How do you plan on getting close to her?” Ellaria asked, unlike her husband, she was chewing on an apple, “She _is_ a pretty woman.”

Before Jon could respond to that – with what, he couldn’t say – Tyrion interrupted, “A cunning one too. Don’t let her appearance fool you.”

“You know her?” Oberyn asked.

“I may have been exiled from the family but it’s not always been that way,” the dwarf drawled, “So yes, I know Daenerys Targaryen. I know the Targaryens. You heard of Rhaegar?”

Jon hummed. “Her brother, the lawyer?”

“Yes. _The _lawyer. This dude does not fucking joke around,” Tyrion said. “Heard they made Drogo’s life a living hell after he and Daenerys got a divorce. That guy’s company was fucked after the divorce and he had to move to a whole other country, where he restarted his business but nothing was ever the same. This is why you don’t want to get on these rich people’s bad side. They’re not as bad as my family, thank gods for that, but they’re not the good guys either.”

Jon listened. He knew about Daenerys’ marriage, of course, knew that it ended badly. None of what Tyrion was saying was news to him. He was still ready to take the risks. “When we’re done,” Jon said slowly, “Daenerys and the Targaryens won’t be the only ones after us. So will everyone else. The police, the Lannisters…let’s face it, we’re fucked either way.”

“He’s right,” Val said. “We’ll just have to be on the run. Change our identities, cut our hair. Hell, I’m willing to undergo plastic surgery as long as I get my money. Scary rich people are not our biggest concern. Getting out, _alive_, and not getting caught should be what we need to focus on.”

Ellaria told Jon, “You still haven’t told us what your plans are for Daenerys. How do you get in the mind of a detective?”

“By getting in her pants,” Oberyn mused jokingly.

Jon shook his head. “No. Maybe just be a friend, an acquaintance.”

“My option’s a lot more fun, though,” the Dornishman said, smirking.

Jon kept a straight face. “You know what my first plan was? To get only you, Oberyn. I didn’t need your wife.”

“Fuck you,” Ellaria spat, offended.

“But it’s true,” Jon shrugged. “However, I knew you’d fuck up this mission if she didn’t come with you. I knew you’d be the weak link. If something happened to her, you’d put us in danger. If something happened to you, she would put us in danger.”

They looked at each other, smiling.

“He isn’t wrong,” Ellaria said and marched over to kiss Oberyn, “I will burn down the world for my darling.”

“Love makes us do stupid things,” Jon concluded, “So,_ no_. I’m not getting in anyone’s pants. You might be joking but know that things like that complicate everything and more complications aren’t what we need.”

Val groaned. “Just say you’re uptight and go.”

***

**the heist – day 02,**

**5:24 am. **

Jon was awake before the sun.

His ‘office’ to supervise the heist was far, far away from his actual home for obvious security reasons. A three-hour drive to be precise. When he reached there, a strange sensation coursed through his veins as he unlocked the main door to the abandoned farmhouse. He couldn’t believe it—the plan was working. It was all happening.

Gendry had done an excellent job at setting the place up. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary farmhouse, an ugly, abandoned thing you wouldn’t glance twice at while driving. But the inside was a tech palace with monitors set up all over the place, wires scattered, large speakers placed strategically. Jon switched on the light and took in a deep breath before sitting on his chair, following Gendry’s instructions to turn on all the devices.

Right away, he got different views of the Iron Bank – both from the inside and outside. That was also thanks to Gendry, who had successfully cracked all the security cameras of the place so that Jon would get all the videos. He also made it such that other networks wouldn’t be able to get the images, meaning the police could try as they wished, they had no views of the inside. He was the only one who could see what was happening.

He could see that everyone was still grouped in the main hall. The quality wasn’t the best but he could make out the hostages on the ground, sitting in groups while the crew was walking back and forth, guns in hands.

Jon rang them. There was only one working telephone, he’d asked Gendry to make sure that every other line would be disconnected except this one that he had messed with to make sure the signals were untraceable.

Jon watched as Oberyn rushed up the stairs, evidently having heard the call. The phone was situated on the second floor, next to a window where the curtains were drawn. “Hello.”

“Hey,” Jon said.

Oberyn breathed out a laugh. “We did it.”

“You did it,” Jon answered, powerless to stop a grin from breaking across his face.

“Holy fuck, this feels unreal. How’s it on the outside? They’re all over the place, right? Waiting to kill us? Are we on the news?”

“Wow, slow down,” Jon chuckled. “The police are all over the place, yes,” he began by saying, eyes darting to the cameras outside which showed a range of police cars and reporters. If he searched more, he knew he’d also find Daenerys. “And the heist was on the news last night. Probably this morning as well.”

“We did it,” Oberyn replied, sounding as giddy as a child. “How’re the Lannisters?”

“Crying,” Jon answered.

Oberyn exaggerated a moan. “I wish I could see them.”

They could go on and on about how great it was that the Lannisters were finally miserable. But they had work to do. “Alright, in all seriousness now, you do realise you’re in more danger than ever? Don’t let your guards down, Oberyn. This is not victory. This is the beginning of victory. Remember the plan. Do not deviate from it,” Jon reminded him, turning his voice cold and stern.

“Yes,” Oberyn said obediently. “All’s good here. The hostages are shitless scared, Joffrey is…gods, you should see him. He _peed_ his pants.”

Snow snorted, shaking his head. “If Cersei finds out about that, she’ll probably go into a cardiac arrest.”

“If only,” Oberyn jested. “How are things with the Targaryen chick?”

“Initiated contact. Everything is alright.” Jon paused and deducted, “I think she likes me.”

“Don’t give that poor girl false hope,” Oberyn joked, “You’re already betraying her trust, now don’t get her to fall in love with Mr. I-don’t-need-feelings-to-complicate-everything.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about that,” he said, “And…I got her diary.”

“Her what?”

“She has this little notebook she takes everywhere to jot things down. I stole it from her last night while we were having a drink.”

“Man, I swear you have to teach me your sleight of hand secrets,” Oberyn whistled. “Anything interesting you found in there?”

“Nothing, more or less confirming that she knows nothing about you guys. Which is good.” Daenerys also called the person who talked to her on the phone – AKA Jon – an asshole and then scribbled it away, something which made Jon chuckle to himself. “I will also use this as an opportunity to go see her while she’s working. Maybe I’ll find out more about what their plans are for the investigation.”

“Alright. I guess we’re all good, then?”

“Yeah. Tell the others what I said, to stay focus on th—”

“The plan, I know.”

Jon exhaled softly. “Oberyn?”

“Yes?”

“We’ll get through this,” he promised.

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” Oberyn replied. “I don’t doubt _you_ for a second.”

**6:07 am. **

“Did the bus driver say anything else?”

“No. He could only identify the woman who knocked him out as a white, blonde female. About five foot eight. She had a sweet voice and did not look like she meant him any harm until, well, she pulled out a gun.”

“Could he identify the gun?”

“I’m afraid to him it just looked like any gun.”

Daenerys nodded at Greyworm’s words. She was restless. The case was not moving forward. They would soon be twenty-fours in and she learned nothing new. No possible suspect. Nothing from the Iron Bank either. And most importantly – nothing from the caller from the previous day, the infamous White Wolf.

“Do you want some coffee?” Greyworm asked her.

“No,” Daenerys said, “You can take a break, Grey. I’ll just be here.”

Her friend and partner nodded once before stepping out of the tent.

“Wait, Grey.”

He looked back at her expectantly.

“Call the bus driver again,” she requested, “we’ll have a sketch artist brought in. Maybe with some luck, we could narrow down our searches because tall white blonde is…not good enough.”

“Will do,” Greyworm confirmed before leaving.

Daenerys put on her reading glasses and went back to listen to the conversation she had with the robber. She’d gone over it numerous times now, somehow convinced that she’d find something new if she heard it once more.

But before she could concentrate, her phone was ringing.

_Jaime Lannister. _

Daenerys closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose to soothe some tension before she worked the nerve to answer. “Jaime, hello.”

“Good morning, Daenerys. Although I reckon this morning is anything but good.”

“It really is,” she sighed.

“Anything new?”

“I told you I will inform you about any progress,” she said calmly, hiding every hint of frustration she was feeling.

“I talked to Rhaegar yesterday. You know what he told me?”

Daenerys frowned, “what?”

“That this could ruin my chances of being elected,” he hissed out.

“Jaime….”

“No, he’s right. This is just _fucking_ great!” he seethed. “This could not have happened at a better time!”

Daenerys didn’t know what was worse: that he was more worried about the elections than his son and other teenagers being trapped with armed people inside that building or the fact that Rhaegar was dumb enough to be this frank with him, knowing Jaime’s temper and lack of control. Either way, she felt the need to reassure him. “I’m sure this will not affect your campaign,” she said, “if anything, people will feel bad for you. Your son is trapped in there. His life is in danger.”

How weird was it that she had to remind him of such a horrible fact to cheer him up. It seemed to work, though. “You think so?” He sounded hopeful, even.

Daenerys grimaced to herself. “Sure. The best way to win people over is sympathy, am I right?”

“Hey, Daenerys?”

“Yeah?”

A pause. “Do you think this is personal?”

“For now, I’ve no idea.” She clicked her tongue, “Why, you think you have any serious enemies? Outside of politics, that is?”

Jaime huffed out a laugh but it sounded eerily nervous to her. “No. Of course not. W-who doesn’t love the Lannisters, right?”

“Of course,” she answered mildly. “But if you’re doubting someone then you should tell me. You have to be honest with me, Jaime.”

“When you say doubting….”

“I mean doubting,” she repeated slowly. “Anyone you think hates you? Or your family?”

“I mean, we’re the Lannisters. Obviously there are some jealous people, I don’t see why they’d want to rob the fucking Iron Bank. With our son inside.”

“Right. It could truly be just a bunch of desperate losers who are using your son as an important hostage _because_ he is your son,” she said, “Or it might be a group of people who specifically targeted this place and your son to hurt your family. A personal vengeance.”

“Our family hasn’t done anything wrong toward anyone,” Jaime responded quickly.

“Then I believe you.”

“Okay. Good. Work hard, alright?”

“I always do,” she said and hung up.

**11:42 am. **

That was when the telephone rang.

Daenerys’ colleagues gave her a look. Greyworm widened his eyes. Daenerys pressed her moist palms against the fabric of her jeans before gathering the courage to pick up.

“Hello.”

“Detective.”

_The White Wolf._

She signalled for her team to begin recording and they all scrambled to their positions to do so and Daenerys grabbed her pen, looking for her notepad—fuck, where _is_ her notepad? Greyworm hurriedly handed her a piece of paper as her search became fruitless. Daenerys frowned to herself still, knowing she usually never forgot about that precious diary.

“White Wolf,” she said, trying to sound passive, as if all her senses weren’t on alert. “How have you been?”

A laugh. “We do small talk now?”

“We might as well.”

A golden rule of negotiations: always keep them on the line. For as long as possible.

“I’ve been good. You know, just busy with the heist and stuff. You?”

“Great. Just trying to catch you and stuff.”

“Ah, I see we’ve both been busy then.”

“How about we play a game?” she asked suddenly.

The two police officers in front of her exchanged weird looks but Daenerys sternly gazed at them – a look that screamed ‘trust me on this’. She was their superior, so they had no choice anyway.

“I knew there was a reason why I liked you,” the person mused. “What game?”

“Two truths and a lie. You tell me two truths and one lie and I have to figure out which one is which.”

The caller laughed. “I like that. You start.”

She knew he’d say that. Licking her lips, she began, “Alright. I’m a blonde. I’ve worked on a heist before. And I’ve figured out the identity of the person who’d knocked out the bus driver.” The last lie flew past her lips easily but she needed the person to believe that – needed to at least have some sort of high ground over them.

It must have worked because for a moment, no answer came. And then: “I’m twenty-nine. I like to go down on women. And I’ve already hurt someone inside who refused to cooperate. Won’t hesitate to do it again.”

The line went dead after that.

“Are you insane?” One of the senior officers growled at her, the old man’s blue eyes sparking with anger, “We have time to speak to one of them and you’re playing a _game_?”

“What else did you want me to talk about?” she snapped back. “Can’t you see that this is his game? This is how he likes to play. He prefers this over serious questions, which he would not have answered anyway.”

“He?” Greyworm asked. “How are you sure it’s a man?”

She cleared her throat. “‘I like to go down on women’.” She hoped she wasn’t blushing.

“It could’ve been a lie,” the old officer scoffed, “Or still a woman.”

“It’s definitely a man.” She could just tell. “I think the lie is that they’ve already hurt people. They seem too smart to do this.”

“Or he just told you three lies,” the officer argued. “And you ate them all up.”

“So what? Do _you_ have a better idea? This person is not going to cooperate. If he called to do that, he would’ve done it. He’s calling to mess with us. We’re either messing back or getting made a fool of.”

“Ma’am,” Grey called out, “The bus driver’s here.”

“Good. The artist will be here soon. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she glared at her obnoxious co-worker, “I’m going to get some air.”

**12:56 pm. **

_I’m a blonde. _She really was. Although, technically, he’d call her hair silver. But that was just a minor detail up for debate.

_I’ve worked on a heist before. _Given how much she seemed to know about heists from their conversation at Davos’ café, that was probably true as well.

Which left him with… _And I’ve figured out the identity of the person who’d knocked out the bus driver._

Jon smiled to himself. So she really had no clue.

He arrived at the camp they’d set up outside the Iron Bank at around two pm. It felt strange, in a way, to be so close to the people he knew were inside, to the people he’d trained, to the mission _his _mind was behind of and to act like a total stranger who didn’t know what was happening.

For a moment, he was too distracted by the sight of the white and gold building to notice that he was stepping out of the red line set by the authorities. Before he could process what was happening, he was being tackled on the ground, the force that knocked him wholly catching him off guard. Jon’s fight or flight response was automatically activated and he was ready to punch his way out of this hold, to run for his life. But as he balled his fists, he looked up just in time to be completely lost in wide amethyst eyes boring into his, a curtain of platinum hair falling over his face, even getting in his mouth.

Daenerys straightened herself, staring at him with her mouth agape. “Jon?” she breathed out inquiringly.

He exhaled heavily. “Hi,” he awkwardly said.

“Stay back,” a guard shouted and Jon turned his face to see a gun pointed at him. “Ma’am, you can get up. We got it from here.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said, brushing her hair away from her face. “He’s not dangerous.”

_Oh, baby, if you knew. _

The officer nodded and stepped away.

She seemed to realise – at the same time he did – that she was still straddling his lap in a very indecent way. She hopped to her feet and Jon caught a glimpse of the colour red briefly ghosting over her cheeks. “What are you doing here?” she asked, a little breathless, grabbing his arm to guide him back into the safe perimeter. “You just crossed the line so casually, I thought you were some parent rushing in to try and save their kid.”

Jon pushed his hair back, away from his face. “That happened?”

“We had all sorts of hysteric parents since yesterday,” she confirmed, “Some literally trying to run in the Iron Bank. That’s why we set up these barriers to restrict access.”

“Sorry. I – I was just staring at the building and it’s so….”

“Overwhelming?” she guessed.

He nodded, although he was definitely not overwhelmed for the same reasons she was.

“I know,” she said, “It’s terrifying to think that we’re out here, doing fine, and that in there, innocent people are fearing for their lives with each breath they take. We’re worlds apart, despite being so close.”

_That _was the first time Daenerys Targaryen got Jon Snow to feel something. A quick emotion akin to guilt. But it passed so quickly that Jon promised himself, _convinced _himself, that it was never there to begin with. Her violet eyes suddenly trapped his. “Why are you here?” she repeated, this time her voice was serious and firm.

“You forgot this,” he blurted, pushing forward the leather-covered diary, “Yesterday in the café, you left before you could get this.”

“Oh gods,” she breathed out mightily, grabbing it from his hand, “I was wondering where it went.”

He scratched his beard and tried to appear sheepish and demure. “Yeah, and you said you were working on the heist so I thought I could stop by and drop it.”

“You didn’t have to but thank you. It means a lot to me.” She gazed at him then and scrunched up her nose, “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he answered, although he did felt a slight pinch of pain where her elbow had hit him in the ribs, “Only messed up my hair, which is already a terrible thing to do.”

She guffawed. “Yes. I can tell how long you spend on it.” Her eyes were twinkling with mischief. “You know what? Next time we see each other at Davos’, I’ll buy you a drink to make it up to you.”

He cocked his head to the side and smiled. “Is this a thing now? Are we goin’ to keep buying each other drinks to make up for accidents?”

“It depends on how many more accidents we’ll find ourselves in,” she answered.

_Is she flirting with me? _He couldn’t tell.

“Ma’am.”

Jon glanced to his right from where emerged a young man clad in the same black uniform Daenerys was wearing. His badge read ‘Greyworm’. He spoke directly to Daenerys, “There’s a distressed relative asking to speak to you.”

Daenerys sighed quietly. “Here we go again,” she muttered to herself. Glanced at Jon, “Thank you again for this. I would’ve gone crazy looking for it. Hope you didn’t peek in.”

Jon’s smile returned with so much ease she could never guess the blatant lie behind it. “One of the first things I learned in middle school was not to peek through a girl’s diary. You can find some weird stuff in there,” he joked.

She bit her lip in an attempt to stop herself from grinning, probably for propriety’s sake in front of her colleague, but Jon noticed the beam of amusement in her eyes anyway and the dimple in her left cheek. She was really gorgeous, try as he might to ignore that fact that kept flinging itself at his face. “You’re a good man,” she jested back, “Alright. I’ll see you later, Jon.”

“Have a nice day, Daenerys. I mean, _detective_.”

She smiled at him and walked away with her partner.

Jon inwardly cursed. He intended to get an inside look at where they were working but this plan did not work as intended.

However, before Jon could depart, he overheard two policemen talking.

The first one was saying, “And how do you think these cunts are going to leave? They’re dumb to think that they’re getting out of there alive. The more time they spend inside, the harder it’ll be for them to leave.”

“It’s obvious that they’ll leave through the tunnels under the building,” the other one scoffed, “haven’t you watched any heist movie? That’s a classic move.”

Jon walked away, a slow smile creeping up on his face.

He might not have gotten what he came here for but he got something else, something better—the perfect distraction.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this was supposed to be a two-shot but i underestimated how far off track i would get while writing so it's turning out to be longer. but not longer than three parts i swear. also, excuse the grammar errors as i haven't gone over this yet so there'll definitely be some.
> 
> happy reading and as always, kudos and comments are appreciated!

**the heist – day 2, **

**1:45 pm.**

So far, Daenerys had to deal with hysteric parents demanding their children’s release – not knowing that it wasn’t so simple - and other types of troubled loved ones who came to her, confused, searching for a way to ease their worries and fears of the worst happening. She couldn’t blame them, though, she couldn’t bear to think how she’d feel if a relative of hers was inside, let alone her own children. So when the parents yelled about the police not doing their work properly, all she was allowed to do was try to calm them down, never be too brusque with them, try to put herself in their shoes.

She tried to do the same that afternoon after Grey told her that a relative wished to speak with her. She could refuse to – she had no obligations to answer to them, but she was not that kind of a person. She couldn’t fully understand their pain but she could understand how frightening it must be to have someone you love be in such great danger and not being able to do a single thing about it. 

Robb Stark was leaning against a chair, tapping his foot on the ground when she entered the tent. He looked up, met her eyes, and strode forward.

Daenerys braced herself for the worst. “You must be Robb, I know you’re—”

“You don’t,” he said, but he did not spit the words at her angrily. He was speaking calmly, though a bit forcefully, barely restrained fury evident on the surface of his outer demeanour. “You don’t know how it feels to get a call from work saying your sister is being held captive so don't even pretend.”

She bowed her head. “Of course, I don’t,” she allowed.

“How can I help you?”

Her eyes snapped back up. “What?” She was supposed to be asking this question, not the other way round. 

He met her gaze fearlessly, confidently. “I want to help. I want to get Arya out.”

“Arya?”

“That’s my sister.”

She nodded carefully. “Listen, I may not know how you’re feeling but I can imagine that it’s terrible. I get that you want to help but I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” It was not the first time a desperate family member tried to do what he was doing - it was a natural response, after all, to want to save someone you care for.

“You don’t understand, she means everything to me,” Robb declared. “I refuse to wait around aimlessly until you get answers. If you don’t want me here then I’m still going to do my research on my own.”

Daenerys sighed. Neither of these was advisable but she could only refuse to one. What he chose to do next was out of her control. “I can’t stop you from doing that but I can advise you not to. We don’t know the gravity of this case and involving yourself in it could have dire consequences.”

“It’s pretty grave to me. My sister’s life is in danger.” His eyes grew darker, "I'm already involved in it."

“I mean, we don’t know the nature of this heist. One of them called us. He said that this is about being _heard_. What is that supposed to mean, a political statement, perhaps? All I know is that this is premeditated attack. This didn’t happen overnight, this was carefully crafted to perfection,” she informed him, “And while I understand you wishing to be helpful, I don’t see _how_ you could be.” She even tried to reach out to touch his arm gently, a reassuring gesture that often worked to create a more trusting bond between distressed relatives and investigators.

But Robb seemed wary. He looked down at her hand and moved his arm away, making Daenerys' hand fall. He seemed to only be listening with one ear, not paying full attention to what she was aiming to make him understand. “Do you have any suspects yet?”

“We aren’t allowed to disclose such information to the public.”

“I’m not the public,” he had retorted in a growl, “I’m someone who is concerned.”

The worst thing about speaking with victims’ loved ones was that no matter what, anything Daenerys said could be misinterpreted and turned into a misstep. She began shaking her head but he was invading her space suddenly, getting in her face. “I need to know. I need to know she’s safe and —”

And then he was being pulled away from her. Daenerys straightened her blouse as she watched Greyworm grab the man’s shoulders and tug him away. “Sir, we’re going to need you to leave,” he said, “Now.”

“This isn’t over,” he spat out at her.

Daenerys sighed. She could really use a drink right now.

**3:02 pm. **

“There's a pregnant woman, there are sick kids, girls having their periods,” Ellaria said. “We need medical supplies, Jon.”

Jon ran a hand over his face. “What else?”

“Food, too.”

Jon knew this was coming eventually but he wasn’t expecting to be in need of the police’s help so soon. The difficult part was _how _he was going to get it. Knowing the procedures, they’d have to fall into a compromise. “I’ll get everything you need,” he answered, not allowing Ellaria to hear that he was quite worried about what was going to happen next. “Is everyone and everything alright, other than that?”

“Sure. Tyrion’s complaining about not having had a glass of wine in over twenty-four hours.”

“No one is getting drunk.”

“I know, I’ll make sure of that. And, oh, Gendry’s had a panic attack.”

Jon grimaced. “Was it bad?”

“Yeah, he sat down and cried for a few hours about how his life was ruined. But Val calmed him down a bit. With a slap.”

“Go gentle on him.”

“I know he’s your little protégé, boss, but he needs to grow a pair.”

“He’s not my anything. You’re all equally as important to me,” Jon said.

"Aw," her tone was mocking, causing Jon to roll his eyes. Ellaria sighed, “they need me downstairs. Get our supplies, okay?”

“Will do my best. You know what to do when they’ll come to deliver what you need, right?”

“Make everyone wear the masks so they can’t differentiate between us and the hostages, yes, I know.”

“I know you probably find me annoying for always reminding you of all these little details but you know why I need to,” Jon told her, knowing she must be rolling her eyes at his precautious ways like she always did during training. She used to say rules were like user manuals, nobody really needed them, you just need to get into the game and you'll learn to play on your own. Jon did not agree with that comparison at all.

“You’re a perfectionist. No one can blame you for that.” She gave a chuckle then, “But yes, you’re quite annoying. Until the next time, Snow.”

The moment she hung up, Jon picked up the phone again – this time, dialling the number to reach Daenerys. For a brief second, though, his fingers hovered above the keypad unsurely. He had no idea if she was going to make this easy or not. Daenerys was smart, Jon had begun to realise, she knew what to expect from him. He went in thinking she was a stuck-up rich girl whose father’s name was the only reason she ended up in such a high position but he was beginning to think that there were more layers to her than he’d wished to know.

When she spoke to him earlier, for example, she had seemed so affected by the case. Like this wasn’t just her job but something she was passionate about. She could use her power to escape the harsh questions of troubled relatives but despite how much their frustration weighed on her, she faced them head-first. She _cared_. Or at least did a very good job pretending she did. 

Daenerys Targaryen was beginning to be a chess piece he had no idea how to play with and he could not let that happen, he needed to have control over everything.

He finally gathered the courage to hit the buttons. She answered almost right away, not even after two rings. “Are there new games you wish to play today?” Her voice was hard and held a large amount of annoyance.

He smiled despite himself. On the phone, speaking to his alias, she was so very different from the woman he talked with at Davos’ café, the friendly and sweet Daenerys who had a nice smile and a calming voice. Now, her voice was as cold as ice and he was certain she wasn’t smiling her usual, gorgeous smile. “No. Today’s serious.”

“Oh? You’re ready to surrender? We promise not to harm you if you walk out with your hands up, guns down—”

Jon barked a laugh which shut her up. “We’re not surrendering, sweetheart, but nice try.”

“Listen, you might not think so, but I’m trying to _help _you here.”

“How so, love?”

“Stop calling—” She paused and took in a deep, mighty breath. It made Jon’s grin spread, he knew he was getting on her last nerves and, admittedly, there was something quite enjoyable about it. He wondered if her eyes burned brighter than they usually did when she got furious. They probably did. He wished he could see her, as weird as that was. “As I was saying, working with me reduces your sentence. It’s still not too late. No one is dead so far so you’re still doing good, buddy. You and however many friends you have in there…you can still have a future after this if you listen to me.”

“Just a question. Do people usually fall for this?”

“I’m serious.”

“Cool. Are you going to listen to me now? Isn’t this what you’re supposed to do during a negotiation, Detective? You’re not very good at your job, hm?”

Jon knew he hit a soft spot when he received nothing but silence on the other line. He almost thought she had disconnected before she spoke again, her voice neutral now, tethering on the edge of an outburst, “I’m listening.” It was crazy that he had only met her three times but he knew her cheeks would turn a lovely shade of pink now that she was angry. Because she tended to blush when she was embarrassed or flustered. Surely, she was turning red with anger right now. 

He spoke sweetly. “We need medical supplies in the Iron Bank.”

He heard shuffling, then, as if things were moving. He knew everyone listening was suddenly intrigued by what he'd just said. After all, this was an opening. Literally.

“You want us…to send doctors in?”

“Doctors, yes, and medicine. There’s a pregnant woman inside. Also, we require more food supplies.”

“And in return, what will you do?”

He tapped his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Not kill them,” he answered menacingly.

But she saw right through the façade, “Listen, _White Wolf _or whatever, we both know you do not intend to murder anyone. Especially not if you’re asking for medical supplies. Whether you want it or not, we need to find a middle ground here.”

He closed his eyes in defeat. “What do you suggest?”

“Release ten teenagers and the pregnant woman.”

“Three and the pregnant woman.”

“_Seven._”

“No.”

Jon smiled, then, an idea popping in his mind. “How about I free Joffrey Lannister?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. I let the kid go. Only him.”

Jon wasn’t stupid. He knew she was contacted by the Lannisters for this case – he knew that her only concern was saving that kid. So his parents could give her a fortune, so she could remain in their good graces. He wasn’t fooled by her beauty or her outer kindness. In the end, they were all the same—Targaryens, Lannisters…. Just spokes on a wheel. Crushing those underneath them.

He wasn’t going to let Joffrey go, of course, but he wished to hear her beg for it. He knew she wanted this. Perhaps once he was free, she was going to drop the case, uncaring about the other innocents inside.

But Daenerys took him by surprise when she answered with a simple, “No.”

He blinked. “No?” He couldn’t mask the shock in his voice. How could she not be amazed by what he was proposing?

“His life is not worth more than anyone else’s there.”

“But—”

“Five teens and the pregnant lady. That’s final.”

For the first time, Daenerys got the last word.

**6:00 pm.**

She was already a devoted caffeine addict before that case began but the toll the stress caused by the heist took on her mental health made it impossible for Dany to go even one day without her two hot cups of black coffee. The familiar scent of vanilla and tea that engulfed her senses when she stepped into Davos’ café was soothing. She’d preferred this over the smell of gunpowder and old documents she had to search through. Or on worse days, the smell of blood on a crime scene that she had to investigate. This place was her safe haven, her little paradise. 

The old man behind the counter was happy to see her as well, which really helped lighten her mood. Just for him, she put on a smile despite how exhausted she felt on the inside.

“Tell me you’ve had a good day,” he begged in a joking manner, but his eyes were sympathetically kind.

Daenerys exhaled as she took her usual seat in front of him. When she didn’t have work to get done, she would keep him company. It became such a habit that no one else would dare take this seat. “Start with yours, I’m afraid my days are rarely good.”

“Well, Marya wants us to adopt a dog and we got into a fight.”

Dany snorted. “Why? She’s right, you should get a dog.”

“We’ve raised two children and one grandkid. We’ve only got a few more years to live, why does she want us to complicate our lives even more?”

“Have you considered that maybe she just feels lonely?”

“Don’t do that.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Make me feel guilty,” he muttered.

Daenerys smiled and lifted her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, a dog might not be a terrible idea.”

“Anyway, I’m thinking a bouquet of roses is a good apology. What’d you think?”

“You know the way to a woman’s heart, Davos,” she mused, winking.

He rolled his eyes at her. “And you?”

“This case is eating me alive,” she admitted. “Tomorrow we’re sending paramedics in.”

“That’s good, right?”

“I don’t like sending my men in dangerous locations as such. I’ve no idea what’s going to happen and it’s stressing me out.”

“Hope this will help,” Davos said slyly as he slid her a glass of her usual order.

“Thank you,” she said as she took a healthy gulp. As she put it back down, Daenerys licked her lips and let her eyes roam the place curiously. Shifting on her seat, she tried to innocently ask, “Have you seen that guy around? What’s his name again…Jon?”

Her attempts at appearing nonchalant flew right over Davos’ head who smirked at her, as if he understood something she didn't. “Why, am I boring you?”

She huffed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“He hasn’t come by today. But he is starting to become a regular.” He started sweeping the top of the counter while keeping a watchful eye on her. “Why, you interested?”

Daenerys scoffed. “No! W-what? He’s a stranger.”

“But he caught your eye.”

“No.” Great, now she was blushing. “It was just…nice to speak to someone of my age, you know? Nothing more.”

“It’s alright, I think you caught his eye too. Plus you _should _date. It'll help you with the stress, to think about something else than your work.”

She sighed, swirling the contents of the cup. But then slowly looked up at Davos. “Why, he said something?” she asked, scratching the skin behind her ear demurely.

Davos grinned. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

***

**the heist – day 3,**

**6:59 am. **

“I agree to your conditions. I’ll free five students and the pregnant woman. You’re bringing medical and food supplies. Only two doctors are allowed. I assume you’re smart enough not to try anything funny.”

“We’re both smart here so I hope _you _respect your end of the bargain.”

“I will.”

“Good. We’ll send our men in at nine am sharp.”

“We’ll be ready for you.”

**9:01 am. **

The advantage Jon had over Daenerys was that he could _see_ what would go on inside. She couldn’t. She would have to wait for the two doctors to leave the Iron Bank to get some feedback, while he could sit back and enjoy the show from the numerous monitors Gendry had set up for him.

His advantage proved to be useful.

Because Daenerys did not play by the rules. He couldn't say he was surprised. As pretty and sweet as Daenerys appeared when they were just Jon and Daenerys at a café, she was an entirely different person as Detective Targaryen trying to bring down the White Wolf. He couldn't expect her not to play dirty. But sadly, he was playing way, way dirtier. 

Jon observed as everyone put a mask on. Everyone – including the students and others held captive. This would help confuse the people going in because no matter what, his goal was to make sure the police never found out who was working with him.

Sandor and Oberyn stood at the front door with their rifles while Ellaria, Val, Gendry and Tyrion were scattered among the hostages, behaving like them, except they had their weapons ready to pull out at any moment if anything went wrong.

It started out innocent enough. Oberyn pressed the button to open the main gate and the two doctors entered. That was when Jon noticed something strange – one of these ‘doctors’ seemed familiar to him. He squinted his eyes at the screen, used his mouse to zoom in and even if the image was pixelated, realisation dawned upon him.

This wasn’t a doctor at all.

While Oberyn and Sandor began to inspect them, Jon dialled the phone inside the Iron Bank. They all had a chip connected to the line which meant that they could hear it ringing despite not being in the same room. “Someone pick up,” he mumbled to himself. "Please." Finally, a person shifted in the crowd. He couldn’t recognise who but they began to walk up the stairs and took off their mask once they were far away from the crowd below. Gendry.

Jon waited until he was in the room where the telephone was found and he answered, at last. “Hell—"

“One of them is a cop.”

“What?” Gendry hissed in his ear. “What does that mean?”

“I _know_ him. I’ve seen him at the scene.” He was one of the police officers discussing how he thought they were going to escape from the building. “Daenerys lied. She only sent one doctor for the medical procedures while the other is an undercover cop. I don’t know what she plans to do with him, probably leave a chip behind or a hidden camera.”

“These motherfuckers,” Gendry scoffed. “What do we do?”

“Get the supplies from them but we’re not freeing anyone anymore.”

“I thought that was part of the bargain.”

“It was.” And he was honest about it, but she wasn’t. “She knew not to try something funny but she did it anyway. She has to pay the price.”

**12:24 pm. **

She’d never been this impatient or anxious in her entire life.

A whole crew of police officers, her colleagues and investigators were waiting in front of the Iron Bank. They even had an ambulance ready to take the hostages for a check-up as soon as they got out.

And if her little plan worked, she would soon have an inside ear to the heist.

Daenerys felt like she finally, _finally _had the upper hand in this situation. It was a pleasant feeling, a bubble of anticipation dancing in the pits of her stomach, ready to burst. 

Words couldn’t describe the immensity of her anger and disappointment when only two people stepped out. And on top of that, they were _running_ out, fearful.

Daenerys met with them halfway, shouting, “Where are the released hostages?”

The doctor was hysteric but the police officer she sent in was able to give her a response, albeit shaken as well, “They didn’t release anyone, ma’am.”

“What does that mean?” she snapped. “You were _not_ supposed to come out without the six hostages! That was the bloody compromise.”

“They found out I was a cop,” he breathed out, “They threatened us out with guns after taking the supplies. They told me to tell you that you shouldn't have played dirty.”

Daenerys felt as if she had been slapped. “This is impossible. How could they find out?”

“How would I know!” he exclaimed back.

“What happened?” Greyworm asked, jogging to them.

“This makes no sense,” Daenerys snarled, kicking at a pebble angrily, a petty action which did nothing to temper down her ire. “They knew I sent an agent in. _How_?” Grey looked as flabbergasted as she felt. 

She needed to leave. Pressing a hand to her forehead – which was turning a few degrees hotter now – Daenerys walked away from them, away from the defeated whispers. They just lost at their only chance of getting the upper hand. And she felt like it was all her fault.

As if to add fuel to the disastrous fire, Jaime Lannister stepped out of his car, walking up to her. He took out his sunglasses and said, “Are you crazy?”

“I’m not in a good mood right now, Jaime, so I can’t deal with you,” Daenerys spat, having had enough of him and Cersei and everybody else, quite frankly.

Jaime grasped her arm, whirled her around to keep on facing him with such ferocity it not only made Dany wince but reminded her of how _Drogo_ used to grab her. The memory made her stiffen under his touch. “One of your colleagues just informed me,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “that they offered to let Joffrey out and you refused.”

“It was obviously a bait. They would never let your son out, he’s their most precious hostage,” she growled out, trying to twist her arm out of his hold.

But he was holding her harder, surely leaving marks on her hand, and his eyes darkened. “You should’ve taken the chance!”

“Your son is one person. They have over fifty hostages in there, men, women and students younger than Joffrey. I’ll do my best to get your son out but this was not the opportunity. It was the opportunity to get as many out as we could, not only Joffrey,” she told him, fury slowly building in her chest.

“I don’t give a fuck about the others,” he seethed and his grip tightened to the point that Daenerys felt prickles of pain shoot throughout her entire arm now. “And your plan didn’t work, did it? Nobody got out from what I’m hearing. I’m beginning to think you’re not as good as I thought you were, nor as smart. What happened to being Aerys’ daughter? Did Drogo weaken you, hm?”

Daenerys heard enough. Nothing ever got to her as much as the topic of her ex-husband, nothing hurt her as much. And he knew that. The fact that he was using this just to get back at her was a cheap move, even for Jaime Lannister. With a flick of her wrist, she expertly ducked out of his grasp and inched her head closer to his. Despite their height difference, she felt no fear of being stared down by Jaime. “Next time you touch me,” Daenerys said viciously, spitefully, “will be the last time you have two working hands.”

**7:12 pm.**

When Jon thought to himself, _I wish I could see her face when she realised I knew what she had done, _he did not think that evening, he would end up bumping into Daenerys—and this time, it was not even one of his planned events. He ended up at the bar, in the club, getting a few drinks by himself to celebrate his victory and the victory of his team who was unfortunately not with him. And then _she _was walking in, causing Jon to do a double-take, thinking his eyes were playing games on him.

But he was seeing correctly, Daenerys Targaryen came into the club in a cute, skimpy red dress, her silver hair catching not only his but every man with a pair of eyes’ attention. Her red lips looked like sin. He knew she was beautiful but _seven burning hells, _she was stunning. The dress hugged her body tightly, every curve and dip visible to every pair of hungry eyes set on her. He didn't want to appear as disrespectful or downright desperate as many men often do in bars but his eyes would not leave her, they had a mind of their own and that mind was consumed by Daenerys' beauty. She spotted him and to his surprise, made her way directly toward him, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Must I spill my drink on you for a conversation tonight or are we past accidents now?” she teased, raising her voice over the music and leaning into him to speak directly next to his ear.

He didn’t know if she was aware that her lips accidentally brushed the side of his cheek or the fact that she smelled _really _good – good enough to devour – or that if he lowered his eyes inappropriately, he could see the top of her breasts peaking through this sexy, torturous excuse of a dress. Because if she knew any of that, then she knew he was being tortured by her. She was so out of her element here, so different from the Daenerys he’d known and observed, yet she still managed to fit in just as well – nobody would guess her job looking at her like this. Shiny eyes, plump lips, gorgeous legs encased in a pair of pointy black heels. Daenerys was someone who knew how to fit in, he realised, she had multiple facades. She was complex and that shouldn't intrigue him nearly as much as it did. 

“I think we’re past embarrassing accidents now,” he replied, trying to sound smooth despite the fact that her being here caught him off guard.

She grinned at him then slid on the stool next to him, looking at the bartender. “Dry martini, please.” After her order, she gazed back at Jon, eyes sweeping over his figure quickly.

“I thought you were more of a coffee girl,” he teased. Then realised how stalker-ish that probably sounded so he added, “Because you’re usually at Davos’ at this time.”

“That’s for grumpy, stressed out Dany. The club is for I-feel-like-killing-someone Dany.” She snorted at the way his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Don’t worry, you probably won’t be the victim of my anger.”

_If you knew who I was, then yes, yes, I’d be. _

He smirked. “Probably? That’s not very reassuring.”

“Well, you can be relieved. I don’t have my gun on me, at least.”

He watched her carefully. “What’s gotten you in such a sour mood?”

“Just work,” she declared vaguely.

But he knew better. Failing to get the hostages she was promised must’ve had a great impact on her. Seeing her so worked up over it made him feel _something _akin to guilt. He might’ve been her enemy but he wasn’t a monster. She was just doing her job and he was making it hard. He knew he’d be pissed if he was in her position. He could respect her anger, if that amounted to anything. 

“I’m sorry. I can imagine how difficult managing a heist must be,” Jon offered.

“It’s no fun, I can tell you that much. How’s your book going?”

For an instant, he almost frowned in confusion. _Right, shit, I’m a writer. _“It’s progressing. You can’t rush art,” he proclaimed, “By that, I mean I’m procrastinating a lot.”

She snorted. “Is this your first novel?”

“Yes. I’ve dabbled in some other fields but nothing interested me as much as literature.”

“Oh, like what?”

He knew she was just conversing, that she wasn’t prying for information to try and catch him in a lie, but he _was _lying and when you’re lying, the last thing you want is more questions and to elaborate on your lies. He shifted in his seat, shrugged casually. “I started as a Psychology major and dropped out. Then turned to English Lit.” He met her gaze, “Have you always been a detective?” He hoped changing the subject could work.

“I started out four years ago so, yeah.” She smiled fondly. “It was always my dream. To help people in need. Well, I wanted to be a firefighter actually but that didn’t work out too well. Plus, I’m too short for these ladders they got.”

“With those heels, you aren’t,” he shot back.

She quirked a brow. “I was going for a sexy look tonight,” she said, lifting a leg up and _fuck, Jon, don't stare at her smooth-looking legs and imagine how they'd feel like wrapped around your torso or thrown over your shoulders as you-- no, no. Nope_, “But gods, they’re killing me already.”

The alcohol was fucking with his brain, definitely, for there was no other reason why he blurted, “It worked.”

Her raised brow rose higher.

Too late to stop now. “You look sexy, I mean.”

She tilted her head to the side and he was _fucked _because that movement exposed her neck and now he was imagining how it’d feel to kiss her there, how soft her skin would be. He could almost picture Oberyn and the rest of them laughing at him because they were _so fucking sure _he was going to lose himself around her. And he was. 

“Sexy enough for you to accept a dance with me?” she asked.

Jon was growing hot under his clothes and his mind was screaming at him that this was a terrible, terrible idea. “I….”

“C’mon, just one dance? I could really use a distraction right now,” she pleaded and it was true, she did look tired and exasperated.

Not to mention that it was because of him but she didn’t even know that.

Like a fool, he took her hand to the dancefloor.

Like a fool, he let her wrap her own around his neck and push her chest up against his as they danced.

She was making him feel lightheaded. Like he was losing all sense of reality other than the glorious feel of her body pressed up against his, hot and soft, and her lips so near to his.

To prolong his torture, a sensual song came on and Daenerys turned in his arms, platinum hair suddenly whipping him across the face as she put her back to his front. Her small hands grabbed his and guided them to her front, placing them on top of her stomach. She was _grinding _up against him and how the fuck was he supposed to think straight? How would any coherent thought run in his mind when she was pressed up against him like this, his body literally wrapped up around hers? She lowered her head back until it rested on his shoulder, her eyes were shut and her lips tugged in a smile as she moved against him, as graceful as ever. Daenerys smelled good and _felt_ good and was driving him all kinds of insane.

His cock was hardening in his pants and he was certain she could feel it by how she was pressing her shapely ass against his length, rubbing and circling her hips wantonly, making him grunt softly next to her ear. She brought a hand up to his hair, tugged on his curls, and his other hand was moving on its own accord, gliding up her dress and stopping at the underside of her right breast. When she released a shaky breath as his thumb caressed the curve of her covered breast, Jon felt an answering tug in his groin.

He wanted to fuck her. _So badly. _This situation reminded him of Val but at the same time, it was nothing like what happened with Val. Val was pretty, yes, but it was easy for him to push her away and do the right thing. Daenerys was something else. Or maybe he was too drunk to care because he was moving with her to the music and his head was dropping to her neck, getting a taste of the skin whose softness he had wished to test. It was as soft as he imagined and he pressed a kiss there, making her writhe against him. If they didn’t stop soon, they never would. _They never would._

He wrenched himself from her as if she was physically hurting him. Daenerys looked back at him in a sort of befuddled daze. “Jon?”

“Sorry,” he said, stammering over the words. “I just – I can’t – we shouldn’t do…this.”

“Oh,” was all she said.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he repeated and left without another word or another glance at her.

***

**the heist – day 4,**

**8:03 am.**

She had to apologise to him.

She felt like a fool for last night, gods, what had gotten into her to throw herself at him as such? No wonder she scared him off. Daenerys just wanted a release last night, her head was exploding with the unsolved case and the Lannisters constantly pressuring her. Above all else, Jaime Lannister had pissed her off. And Jon, _Jon _was a handsome, young man who was not only charming but smart. And she was drunk and he was right there, looking at her with those dark, seductive eyes, and she could still feel his mouth on the jumping pulse on her neck. She was not the type of woman who liked one-night stands. Dany was a divorced woman who remarried her work, that was all she really knew anymore. But she knew she would’ve let Jon take her home last night. She hadn’t been this attracted to a man in a very, very long time and it was exciting to think about what could’ve happened.

If he didn’t ditch her on the dancefloor, of course.

Even now, the memory had her cringing and mentally facepalming. Was she that embarrassing? She knew she was pretty but perhaps she just wasn’t _sexy _anymore nor as desirable as she’d once been. Whatever it was, Jon had every right to walk away – no matter how much it had pained her – and she had to say sorry for her obscene behaviour.

In a conversation, she remembered he mentioned that he’d come to Davos’ café in the morning because it was the best time and place to write. He was here as she entered but as soon as he saw her, he slammed his laptop shut, as if she was catching him committing a crime. It was one of the first weird things Dany noticed about him – that for a man who claimed to be a writer, he didn’t _write _much.

She brushed it off. And walked up to him with an apologetic speech brewing in her mind.

“Morning,” he greeted her.

“Can I?” she pointed at the free spot across from him in the booth.

Jon nodded. “Sure, go ahead. I was craving some good company.”

“Am I?” she asked, licking her lips anxiously, “Good company, I mean.”

Jon frowned. “Of course. Why are you saying that?”

She sighed and began, “Because last night….”

“Daenerys—”

“No, hear me out. I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.” She could feel her cheeks burning with shame, “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. Which I did, so I’m really sorry.”

“Hey.” His eyes were earnest as they caught her attention and she helplessly stared into the grey irises until he spoke up, gently and slowly, “You did not make me uncomfortable.” He lowered his voice and added, almost shyly, “Quite the opposite, I think.”

She blushed even harder now.

“But,” Jon resumed, “We were both drunk and I didn’t want us to do something you’d regret the next day.”

_Great, he’s a gentleman too, as if he needs more sexy attributes. _

“That was sweet of you,” she offered, although she was pretty sure she was not going to regret them fucking but she couldn’t say that.

“Plus last night you seemed very upset. I don’t think it would’ve been the right thing to do,” Jon added.

Daenerys finally broke the eye contact and chuckled dryly. “Yeah. I had a pretty shitty day at work.”

He hummed. “Yes, you did mention something about the heist.”

She couldn’t remember that she did but nodded. “That and being reminded of something from my past that I didn’t want to be reminded of.”

He looked at her curiously but made it obvious that he wouldn’t pry or be nosy.

But Daenerys was tired of bottling up her emotions and she felt like she had to externalise it in some way to feel better. She didn’t want to do so with her mother because Rhaella was old and sick and already too worried about Dany. So she found herself willing to speak to Jon. “I was married once,” she said. “And it was not good.”

He looked surprised. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said, shaking his head.

“What if I really want to?” she asked. “To talk about it, I mean.”

Jon visibly gulped. “Then I’d be happy to hear but I don’t want you to think you’re forced to tell me anything.”

“I know I’m not. I just have to say this.”

“Alright.”

She breathed in. “It was a bad marriage. All sorts of bad. It didn’t start out like this, to be fair. I loved Drogo when we were in high school. And he loved me too, I know he did. In the start, at least. But then when I got into uni and he didn’t, things changed. He was working as a mechanic while I was cities away from him, in a new environment, with new friends and all that. He became obsessively jealous about that. It was the little things at first. Like, he’d text me at night asking if I was at a party or he’d try to contact my new friends.

“Then it got progressively worse. He would ask me not to go to these parties. And then, he would threaten me not to. He’d come visit me, get paranoid about male friends that I had. He’d ask me to stop speaking to them if I really loved him and like an idiot, I obliged because I felt bad for him. He would always play the victim, always cry when we got into fights, screaming that I did not love him anymore, saying he would end his life. It was really bad.”

Jon watched her intently, shaking his head, “I’m so sorry.”

She nodded. “Once I graduated, I thought to myself, hey, this nightmare’s finally over now. We’re going to get married and he’ll never be this paranoid again. We’ll always be together. Gods, I was such an idiot to think that he would be better as a husband. He was even more possessive than before. He didn’t want me to become a police investigator. His reasoning was that there were too many men who would work with me.”

“That’s fucked up,” Jon commented, “And stupid.”

She chortled to lighten the suddenly tense atmosphere. “I know. It was as if he didn’t have an ounce of trust in me anymore. Or in our marriage. When he began reading my text messages, asking for my passwords, dropping me to work and picking me up just to make sure I was ‘being good’ – his words, by the way – I realised that I felt trapped. Unhappy. I was a prisoner in my own marriage and I knew I didn’t want to go on like this. All hell broke loose when I suggested we take a break, he thought I was having an affair. So he…hit me. A lot. His mental abuse manifested into something physical.”

Jon inhaled sharply.

She didn’t meet his eyes anymore, not knowing what she’d find there. “I won’t bore you with the details. But it lasted at least seven months. I hated myself because there I was, my job being to protect people and help solve injustice, but I was a victim of that myself and I was too much of a coward to escape it.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that,” he said, voice firm, “You’re the farthest thing from a coward just because you didn’t stand up to your abuser.”

She wanted to believe that, as well. “I did get my revenge, though. I think my brother and I ruined his life. Or so the rumours say.” Her lips tipped in a smile, “Can’t say I feel bad about it.”

Jon studied her face. She couldn’t really pinpoint the emotions on there, he was good at hiding what he was feeling, she noticed. But he answered with, “Good for him.” He sounded fierce and sure of that.

“And yesterday, someone reminded me of him. I hate that it still affects me to think about it. I feel like…I’ll never move past it, you know?”

“You can’t just forget stuff like that. You might heal but it’s always going to be there.”

“I know. I wish it wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Jon’s eyes were still very much intense and Dany wished she could read what he was thinking as he gazed at her as he did. “Don’t you have work to get to?”

“I’m going in late today. Unless there’s some sort of progress, there’s nothing we can do about this heist.” She put her head into her hands and groaned softly. “I’m having such a headache because of this whole thing. I could really use a massage right now.”

She was simply jesting but Jon raised an eyebrow at her, “I just happen to be very good at massages.”

She laughed but felt his dark eyes on her. Feeling bold, she leaned on her elbows. “If I suggested you give me one right now, you’d agree?”

His voice was as hot and sweet as melting honey, “In theory, perhaps. It depends if you ask.”

Dany knew she shouldn’t, that this was a dangerous game they were playing but what was the harm in a little fun? She’d been too stressed lately. She deserved this, as Davos had put it. And she didn’t even scare him off with her psycho-ex-husband story so maybe this Jon Snow was exactly the type of man she needed for a nice, healthy distraction. “I’m asking, Jon Snow,” she murmured, “I’m very interested in a massage right now.”

**9:12 am. **

_What the fuck are you doing?_

He knew this was unwise and going against every rule he had set up. The last person he was supposed to get involved with was Daenerys Targaryen, the woman who unknowingly held his destiny and that of the others’ in her dainty hands. This was wrong, no matter how he looked at it. But the pull was too strong, he couldn’t deny it any more than she could. They both knew they’d fall into bed at some point, it was only a matter of time now.

And Daenerys was proving to be less and less of an enemy. His heart, cold as it was, broke for her when she spoke of her abusive marriage, the ghosts of her past clearly still haunting her. He didn’t know all of that. It changed his entire opinion about her. He was aware that she had been married, aware of the divorce that had fucked up Drogo’s life – something Tyrion also spoke of, painting Dany as the devil – but he had no idea what he did to her. When she told him about it, her voice cracking, he no longer gave a fuck what she made Drogo endure. He was certain he deserved way worse.

Daenerys was not the type of person he had wished to bring down along with his enemies. She wasn’t like Jaime or Cersei Lannister. She was kind and sweet and passionate about what she was doing.

And she would want him dead the moment she’d find out who he really was.

“You seem a bit tense,” she teased him during the drive to his house, “Are _you_ the one who needs a massage?”

_Yeah, what had gotten into him to propose a fucking massage to her? _Jon was pretty sure he was losing his mind. That, or he already lost it last night at the club, where he got a taste of her and he was drunk on it, needing more.

“I’m fine,” he said, unconvincingly. “I, uh, haven’t brought a girl home in a long time.” Which was true but not at all the reason he was nervous. He shouldn’t be doing this. He could still back out. But, fuck, did he not want to.

“Good,” she’d said and he raised a brow at her. She widened her eyes. “Not good that y-you haven’t had a girlfriend in a while. I mean, good, because I-I feel less awkward now. I haven’t done this in a long time either.”

“Well,” he drawled, drawing close to the parking lot, “It’s only a massage, right?”

They didn’t even pretend.

The moment she stepped into his home, she casually said something generic about how he had a nice place while Jon turned around to lock his door. But the moment he faced her again, they were both done playing games.

She was the one to kiss him first.

Daenerys tasted of something sugary and as he opened her lips with his own, he caught a whiff of the coffee she drank all the time. It tasted better on her lips than in a cup.

She moaned into his mouth as his tongue traced hers, her arms curling around his neck and chest pressing up to him. Jon wrapped his arms around her waist, deepening the kiss, curling his tongue inside her mouth, taking all she was giving. Even if he knew he shouldn’t.

His hands slid down her waist to her hips and finally to grab two handfuls of her plump ass. She sighed into his mouth and jumped in his arms, wrapping her sexy legs around him as he held her by the thighs and began to walk her backwards. Daenerys seemed to love his hair, her fingers brushing obsessively through his curls and tugging when he teasingly nibbled on her bottom lip before soothing it with his hot tongue. When he began kissing the side of her mouth, across her jaw and down to her neck, she was turned into a writhing and gasping mess above him and he wanted to drown in the smell and taste of her and the glorious sounds she was making.

“Need you,” she gasped, “So badly. Inside me. Now.”

Jon hummed, his blood singing and pumping for him to take her. The need for her was very real, almost tangible. And he couldn’t wait to get to a bed. He took her to his kitchen and dropped her on the island with a dull thud that was nothing compared to the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. Daenerys leaned down, grabbing his face in her hands as she kissed him, his upper lip first then suckling on his lower lip in her sweet mouth. She was driving him to the brink of insanity.

Jon spread her legs open to stand between them, his hands gliding over soft, creamy skin under her dress, swallowing her sharp intake of breath when his fingertips neared her inner thighs. He could already feel the heat from her centre and it made him groan quietly against her mouth. “May I?” he asked, a part of him almost wanting her to say _no _because they should not be doing this, although right now, he couldn’t remember why.

“Yes,” she whimpered, thrusting her hips in his direction.

Jon lifted her dress, exposing her pale, toned thighs. His mouth watered at the sight of sexy red lace covering her cunt – and how there was a patch of wetness in the front. He brushed his fingers over it, just to confirm, and she jolted above him. “You’re so fucking wet,” he marvelled, curling two fingers behind the thong to skim over her soaking slit. His fingers came out drenched. The smell of her was heady and he had to have a taste. When he brought them to his mouth to suck on, they both moaned. She tasted _divine, _he could eat her up.

“Please,” she mewled, her silver hair cascading down her shoulders as she bit on her kiss-bruised lip. “I need you, Jon. I need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” He plunged a finger inside of her and Daenerys threw her head back as she moaned. He added a second and began pumping them in and out. “That what you want?”

“Hmm, yes.” She was moving against his hand, fucking herself on his fingers and if this wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his entire existence then he didn’t know what was. His cock was hard already and the squelching sounds her tight cunt was making weren’t helping.

He took his fingers out to unzip his pants, freeing his throbbing length. Daenerys widened her legs, the sight of her glistening cunt too enticing to look away from. But he had to shake some sense into himself. “Wait, condoms.” He tried to knock enough sense into his head to go find a pack and he was grateful that he kept some in a drawer nearby.

He slid into her with ease, since she was so wet, and she wrapped her wobbly legs around him. They both sighed at the rightness of it all. “Yes,” Daenerys cried, “You feel _so_ good.”

She felt incredible too. So good he couldn’t even form the words, so his appreciation was shown in the form of breathless grunts, notching his hips forward to thrust deeper into her, her velvety walls constricting around him.

He fucked her slowly and deeply and she pressed her forehead against his, their hot breaths mingling as they worked towards their individual releases. She was so tight, squeezing and milking him. Pressure built low in the pits of his stomach and he noticed the way her chest began heaving, breath hitching as she met his thrusts shakily. She was close too. He looked into her eyes as he reached down to where they were joined, encircling her clit with his thumb. The eye contact was too intimate but he couldn’t look away, he was entranced by how a dark circle blocked out all the colours from her lively eyes as she moaned his name over and over, her cunt convulsing around him as she came. His orgasm followed, his head falling on her shoulder as she cradled it, keeping him inside of her as they shuddered together.

“Well,” Daenerys exhaled, her voice still a bit breathless as a lazy smile overtook her face. “That was a nice massage.”

**10:02 am. **

“You know, I was a good kid in school. I never even stole a crayon from a classmate.”

“That’s really nice.”

“Imagine my friends’ faces when they’ll find out I robbed the fucking Iron Bank.”

“It’s not going to happen, no one will find out who we are.”

“Yeah, but if something goes wrong and all of our faces are plastered over the news, I just know that my old classmates won’t believe that the shy, quiet kid like me robbed this place.”

“Hey,” Val snapped, “You’re not doing much robbing. I’m the one packing shit here while you’re standing and talking.” She glared at the bags on the floor which _she _filled with all sorts of things, from necklaces to rings, they had the Lannister fortune at their feet. Literally. “I could use some help.”

This place was essentially a big fortress to store all their goods, which wasn’t even that bad of an idea, but why they decided to open it to the public was beyond Gendry. But he knew the answer – they wanted to show off that they were rich cunts. And today, that came back to bite them right in the ass.

“Look at this,” Val said in wonder as she looked through a glass-sealed box inside which lay a set of gold jewellery. A small description was written below, which Val read and announced, “Cersei Lannister wore this to prom apparently. Aw, I guess it has sentimental value.”

Gendry was surprised by her words, Val was far from being an emotional person. And then she smirked and raised her rifle, putting all of her force into breaking the glass with the back of the gun. The shattering noise echoed throughout the place and the hostages winced and gasped.

Gendry rolled his eyes. “Ever so dramatic.”

She threw the whole set into her bag. “Gods, from all we’ve collected, we can already be millionaires.” She grinned. “We only need the crown now.”

The crown was a Lannister heirloom that passed down through numerous generations. It was beautiful, made of pure gold with an intricate pattern of rubies and diamonds, and most certainly the most expensive item in this place. However, it was harder to obtain than the others as it was placed in a safe that was indestructible and they were going to need the code to open it.

A code that Joffrey Lannister could surely provide them.

Suddenly, Gendry began growing nervous. “Do you think we’re really going to get out of here with all of…this? Safe and sound?”

Val narrowed her eyes at him. “Why’re you being such a pussy all of a sudden?”

“I’m just saying. H-how certain are we?”

“Don’t you trust Jon?”

“What? Of course, I do.”

“Then have faith in him,” she pressed. “And stop second-guessing the plan. You’ll fuck this up for all of us.”

And she was right.

Gendry was going to do a huge fuck-up.

It began at that exact moment, as he watched Val walk away with the suitcases filled with everything they took, Gendry made his way back to the front where the hostages sat. They were calmer now, although the atmosphere never got less tense. If fear could be smelled, this room would be reeking of it.

Suddenly, a small voice said, “excuse me.”

Gendry glanced down at a girl who had her knees tucked under her chin, big brown eyes boring into his. She had shoulder-length black hair and seemed very young. He frowned. “Yes?”

“I need to use the washroom. C-can I?”

Gendry took out his gun and saw how he quickly she flinched back. The movement tugged at something in his chest. Gods, he was truly a monster to them all. He’d never seen someone so afraid before. So afraid of _him. _How could the others, like Val, stand doing this without an ounce of guilt? He was swimming in guilt. “Of course,” he answered, signalling her to get up. “I’ll take you.”

All of their hands were tied behind their back. So Gendry let the girl walk ahead, knowing she wasn’t dangerous. Plus, she was a lot shorter than him. They entered the bathroom alone and she turned to him, a queasy expression on her small face. “Can you….” She trailed off and lifted her hands. 

Gendry shook his head once. “I’m not supposed to untie anyone.”

“How are we supposed to pee then?”

Gendry turned red. “Uh, I dunno. Find a way.”

She looked entirely disheartened. “Oh.”

Gendry looked down at her hands and nodded slowly, sighing in defeat. “But I suppose this can’t hurt.” He stepped closer to her and began untying the rope.

“You’re the nicest among them,” she whispered.

He met her eyes and to his shock, she even offered him a little smile. He was helpless but to return it. “Really?” he joked.

“Yeah, I wanted to pee for a long while now but I waited until you returned. The blonde girl looked like she wanted to kill me,” she spoke softly.

Gendry chuckled. “She can be like that.” Val always had such intense energy around her, it was hard to get used to it sometimes.

“She reminds me of my sister, we always used to fight.” Her smile turned sad. “Now I’ll never see her again.”

Gendry frowned. “Why?” She gave him a look that said ‘really?’ and he shook his head. “I mean if you all behave properly, which you have been doing so far, you’ll get out of here.”

“You’re really going to let us go?”

“Of course.”

“I’m _scared. _I miss my brother and sister an-and parents. I just have a feeling I’ll never see them again,” she said and her voice began to crack, tears welling in her eyes.

The sight tore Gendry’s heart apart. “Hey, don’t say that. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry.” She sniffed, using the back of her hand to wipe her tears. “I probably sound like an idiot. And I should go pee.”

He nodded and awkwardly waited as she went into a stall. In the meantime, Gendry took a look at himself in the mirror, his subconscious split into two. He knew his friends weren’t bad people – he knew the Lannisters were horrible people who would’ve never gotten what they deserved unless Jon started all of this. At the same time, there were people like this girl. Innocent people who did not deserve all of this. Gendry was torn, his emotions conflicting with one another. He heard the toilet being flushed and whirled around to face the girl.

“I’m sorry, I have to tie you up again,” he said, flashing her a little smile.

She nodded, looking down. “It’s alright.” She extended her hands which were curled in fists.

As Gendry began wrapping the rope around her hands, she flicked her right wrist over and he merely caught a glimpse of the shiny object before it was thrust in his direction. Gendry didn’t register the pain at first and then it came _rushing in. _His eyes slowly lowered to his stomach. His hand reaching out to touch his leather jacket. His fingers turned red. His head began to feel light as he lost balance and dropped to his knees, looking up at her with wide eyes. The girl, who had seemed so innocent moments ago, had a devilish look in her eyes.

She just fucking stabbed him with a shard of glass.

“You—” He choked on the word, the pain in his stomach making him shudder.

She had the nerve to kick him, forcing Gendry to lay on the ground with a groan. On a whim, she was running out. Gendry opened his mouth to shout for help but the world started spinning around him, things started to appear blurrier. His head hit the marble floor with a loud thud as everything faded to black.

**11:45 pm. **

“Why are you looking at me?”

She giggled at his question. “Can’t I admire you?” she murmured, eyes tracing over his chest.

Jon Snow was a _really _pretty man. She wouldn’t mind lying here all day, gazing at his naked form, all muscles and expanse of pale skin. And his gorgeous face – the beard, the dark eyes, the plump lips that did _sinful _things to numerous parts of her body as they proceeded to have sex first in his kitchen then a second, slower time on his bed. Where he took his time to kiss her thoroughly, made her scream and wail until they had their fill of each other. She was insatiable, though, because she could feel herself growing wet once more as he looked at her looking at him, his eyes darkening lustfully as it drifted across her breasts. She could still feel his lips there, the way he'd grazed his teeth over his nipple as he slammed his cock inside of her, making stars explode behind her eyes, her body feeling as if it was on fire. “I think I have a better view to admire,” he jested.

“To each their own.”

“C’mere,” he mumbled and she obeyed, scooting until she was in his arms and he made a peaceful hum from the back of his throat as his hand began gently caressing her back.

“I should get going soon,” she whispered against his chest. “You’re quite distracting, Jon.”

“I thought that was the point of what we did. To distract you from your shitty job.”

“Touché.” She smiled against his skin. "And my job isn't shitty, by the way, but criminals are."

He looked at her, then her lips and closed his eyes. “I can’t get enough of you,” he said, softly, but it sounded troubled in a strange away.

She leaned up to nuzzle her nose against his, brushing her lips against his teasingly. “You sound like you _want _to get enough of me.”

His tone was light, “Perhaps I do.”

She grinned. “Ouch.”

“Kiss me already,” he sighed.

She complied, softly kissing him. Enjoying it. Tracing her tongue along his lips, melting into his taste. A faint pulse began to make itself known between her legs as his tongue danced with hers passionately.

And then her phone began to ring.

Jon groaned in frustration.

She chuckled. “I have to take this.”

She pulled his bedsheet up to her chest as she sat up. Her smile and light mood came to an abrupt stop when she saw that it was Greyworm calling her. “Hello?”

“Ma’am, you need to come. Right now.”

Daenerys’ heart leapt in her chest, her stomach dropping. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing wrong, this is great news. Someone inside connected to their phone and is _filming_. We’re getting a live broadcast of inside the Iron Bank.”

Daenerys could not believe her ears. “_What_?”

“You have to come.”

“I’m on my way,” she rushed.

Jon looked at her with a confused expression as she searched for her dress. “What is it?”

“Progress in the case,” she answered, to which he only looked more befuddled. “The heist, I mean. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more but I think we’re getting live footage from inside.”

Daenerys was too busy putting her dress on to notice the horrified look on his face, how panic blanched the entirety of his face in an instant. Dany leaned down and pecked him on the mouth. “This was fantastic, we should do it again.” She winked at him and left, her blood thumping again but this time, not from lust.

After so much defeat, she _deserved _this victory.

**12:01 pm. **

The second Daenerys left, Jon panicked. 

Like he never did before.

He grabbed his keys, got into his car and drove to his hideout.

It all happened so quickly that he couldn’t truly process what she just told him. _Live footage from inside. _The words replayed in Jon’s mind, over and over, until he was right in front of the monitor screens where he could see what happened. He replayed some footage, watched the one in the bathroom and sat back in disbelief. Gendry untying a hostage’s hand, her coming out of a toilet stall with a piece of broken glass, _stabbing _him then running out. He followed her through the cameras, watched as the petite but quick woman ran to where they kept the phones and took one out. Jon closed his eyes, took in a deep breath and called them.

It was Oberyn who’d picked up. “We’re fucked,” he said, “We’re so _fucking _fucked.”

“Calm down, tell me what happen—”

“You saw what the hell happened! This fucking idiot Gendry freed that bitch and she – she took out her phone and filmed us.”

“She got all your faces?”

“I don’t fucking know. Most of us, yes.”

“And then?”

“Val shot her.”

Jon could scarcely breathe. “What?”

“Why are you acting shocked? What else could we do?”

“The first rule,” Jon said slowly, “was not to hurt the innocents.”

“Too bad, Snow, you’ve got blood on your hands and you have to accept it. Are you listening to yourself? She _stabbed_ Gendry. He’s fucking bleeding out right now. We’re doing all we can to stop it but he’s still unconscious.”

“And the girl?”

“Her name’s Arya. Arya Stark. A bloody seventeen-year-old outsmarted Gendry, who trained for nine months.” Oberyn exhaled shakily, his anger so palpable it could be heard through the phone. “She’s fine. Val shot her leg to get the phone from her. She’s barely hurt.”

Jon ran a hand over his face. “I don’t want you to hurt anyone else.”

Oberyn laughed humourlessly. “You know what I think? That I should’ve killed that girl. They don’t fear us enough, Jon, and when there’s no fear, there’s rebelling. Gods know where she got that piece of glass from and who knows what they’ll get next?”

“The heist is almost over,” he begged him to understand, “Let’s not fuck it up. Remember who our enemies are.”

“It’s already fucked. You swore there wouldn’t be bloodshed. You swore our identities wouldn’t be fucking revealed. Now the whole world knows who we are. You’re the only one who’s safe, you get to sit nice and pretty somewhere on a farm and just watch over us.”

“You’re just angry, you need to calm down.”

Jon heard him scoff and then the line went dead.

***

“Zoom in. Replay it.”

Daenerys’ eyebrows furrowed in concentration as the small video played over and over. It was not of the best quality and the girl’s hands were shaky as she held the camera but it was _enough, _it wasn’t nothing.

“M-my name is Arya Stark,” she stuttered, “And I’m trapped in the Iron Bank. I’m taking this with me to film them, I don’t know what—what will happen to me but we need help. Please.”

She was able to only film for a few seconds before they noticed her and knocked the phone out of her hand, the video stopping right there and then. A part of Dany feared for whatever happened to that girl but the bigger part of her, the part focused on her job, knew that this was no time for pity but to actually get to work.

She pulled her hair up in a ponytail, mind quickly flashing to Jon’s fingers delving through the silver curls as he fucked her nice and slow, and sat at her desk. “Where did she upload that video?” Daenerys asked, opening her laptop.

“Twitter,” Grey answered. “'Iron Bank’ is trending already.”

“Not very good,” Dany sighed, “But there’s nothing we can do. Zoom on this person here.” She pointed at the screen to one of the men holding a gun. The image was pixelated but one of her colleagues got to work, enhancing the quality in a matter of second. It was a man, looking in his mid-thirties with tanned skin and dark hair. “Alright, we need to find out who this is.” They all got to work, typing furiously at their keyboards, running the picture through every search engine they had.

She got a hit easily. “Got it,” she announced, everyone grouping around her. “His name is Oberyn Martell.”

“Perhaps he’s the one talking to you on the phone,” Grey suggested.

Dany shrugged. “Perhaps. Anyone else we can identify?”

“Um, there’s a dark-haired woman next to him but her face is not recognisable by our system at all.”

“That must be his wife, Ellaria,” Daenerys murmured as she scrolled through his info.

“How can you be sure?”

“I’m not but it’s clear here that this is not the first time they ‘worked’ together. They were arrested for some petty crimes in the past.”

“There’s a blonde woman too,” Grey pointed at one frame in the video where they could spot a tall, blonde girl, a gun at her waist.

As they repeated the procedure, they found out her name was Val. “Gods, this one has committed over twenty minor robberies in the past year alone,” Daenerys whistled. “How’s she not locked up yet?”

Greyworm breathed out a meek chuckle. “I don’t know. All that seems to connect these people is their criminal past.”

“Gather everything about their personal lives, including relatives and anyone we can contact.” Determination filled her again and she was glad. She was feeling so let down lately, this was exactly what she needed – a boost of energy. “If we’re lucky enough, we’ll find the weak link of the group. Plus, that might not be all. Maybe she didn't get to film everyone. So we need to find a link among them to find the others involved.”

“Ma’am.”

Daenerys looked up to find an officer staring at her, “Someone’s come to see you.”

Daenerys began shaking her head. “If it’s Jaime or Cersei Lannister, tell them I can’t speak to them right now.” She would rather focus on cracking this damned case already.

“It’s not.”

Dany followed him outside curiously, only to stop short at the sight of Robb Stark. “I’m sorry but I can’t have you throw another tantrum again,” she said, not caring about sounding rude, “I understand you’re worried but so are other people. You need to stop coming here.”

“I’m sorry. I know my behaviour yesterday was out of place.”

Daenerys narrowed her eyes at him.

He sighed, then continued, “I believe you saw what my sister did.”

She was confused for a second, and then connected the dots. Arya Stark. The brave girl was his sister. Just for that, she calmed herself down and let herself listen to what he had to say. “What she did was very brave,” Dany said, “But she’s probably put herself in a lot of danger right now.”

“I know,” Robb told her, eyes hardening. On a softer note, he added, “But that’s Arya. She’s always been the bravest.” His voice was quieter now and so much sadder.

She nodded. Gave him a moment but then had to ask, “Why are you here? We’re all very busy.”

“I found something that could be helpful to you.”

“I thought I told you we don’t use outsiders’ help.”

“I thought I told you I would still do it,” he answered easily.

Daenerys crossed her arms over her chest, irritated. “What makes you think we don’t already know what you do?”

“I’m willing to bet on it.” He smiled coolly. “You have a second to spare?”

Daenerys looked back behind her, where Grey and the others were working hard on the information they just got from the video. It wasn’t much but it was something. Yet, she couldn’t turn down _more _information. “You better not make me lose my time,” she warned.

They went to a nearby restaurant to speak.

“What is it?” she inquired, needing to get this over with so she could head back to work.

“You’ve been speaking to someone on the inside, right?”

“We’re not supposed to talk about this in public,” she said dismissively but he raised an eyebrow at her, so she nodded. “But yes. We’ve initiated contact with one of them.”

“What if I told you…that the person you’re talking to is outside?”

Daenerys’ intake of breath was sharp. “Do not play games with me, sir. Get to the point.”

“You can call me Robb,” he said and out of his backpack, pulled out a laptop. He glanced up at her. “I’m a programmer,” he announced.

“And?”

“And ever since my sister posted that video, I thought that I should try tracing the addresses of any electronic devices inside the Iron Bank—”

She waved a hand, “We did that already. They disconnected everything.”

“Except,” Robb said, turning his laptop towards him and typing something, “Here’s what I found.” Robb turned the laptop screen to face her.

She looked at the numbers and lines of code, blinking in confusion. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

He sighed and pointed at a dot on the screen. “This is an encrypted line. It’s not easy to have one of those but if I can do it, many other people can. It’s coming from the Iron Bank. They’ve been interacting with someone on the outside but they’re using this secret line so there’s no way for you guys to tap into it.” He paused for effect, his eyes fixing on her own. “The mastermind of this is not inside with them…he’s outside. Controlling this whole thing.”

Daenerys began shaking her head in disbelief. “But the number from which he called…we traced it, it clearly came from the Iron Bank.”

“It’s quite easy to change the address of a call, I could even show you how to right now.”

And then it happened.

Dany had an epiphany, something in her mind _clicking. _“They knew we were bringing in an undercover police officer,” she said slowly, “The only way for them to know that is if….”

“If they knew the person was a police officer,” Robb finished for her and she stared at him, wide-eyed, nodding. “Which means that the someone on the outside knew or at least saw that police officer and informed them of who he was.”

Daenerys had to sit back properly, the realisation hitting her like icy water.

The person behind this heist wasn’t just outside—roaming around freely—but was also close to them.

And potentially, close to _her_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIGHLY unedited. seriously someone needs to tell me to get a beta.

**the heist – day 05,  
6:24 am.**

Gendry hissed in pain for the fifth time.

“Stop moving,” Ellaria snapped at the young boy who nodded obediently but jerked again the moment she took out the last piece of glass from his stomach. “I think you’re good,” she muttered, applying some kind of cold ointment which made him clench his teeth as pain spread all across his chest, the sharpness of it so strong that Gendry felt dizzy.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as Oberyn’s wife began to bandage around his chest.

“You’ll need some rest,” Ellaria declared.

“And what are we supposed to do?” Oberyn growled from where he was standing in the doorway, “Give him a nice bed and let him sleep while _we_ hold this plan together to avoid more fuck-ups?”

“Honey,” Ellaria sighed softly, standing up and discarding the bloodied glove she used to tend to Gendry’s wounds, “What happened is in the past. We have no choice but to move forward now.”

“The plan is screwed. And it’s because of him,” Oberyn stated, glaring at a guilt-stricken Gendry.

“I’m sorry,” managed Gendry, “I really am. I didn’t mean for this to happen. If I could take it back, I would. I would do anything for this heist to work out.”

“If I asked you to put a bullet through that girl’s heart right now, to kill her, would you?” The Dornishman retorted.

Gendry’s tongue thickened in his mouth, dread filling his chest at the idea of killing another human being—killing Arya, the seemingly sweet girl who didn't hesitate to trick him.

His hesitation made Oberyn scoff. “You wouldn’t. Because you have a good heart.” He turned to leave, “And good hearts will get us killed.”

**8:01 am.**

After the useful information Robb had provided her, Daenerys had no choice but to accept his help on the case. It felt refreshing to have an outsider’s view even if sometimes, Robb was brutally honest with her.

“Do you think it’s someone on my team?” she asked him that morning, shaking her head in disdain. “A mole?”

“Possibly. Is there someone you don’t trust? What about that guy who’s always with you?”

Daenerys laughed at what he was implying. “Greyworm? No way.” She shook her head. “He’s not only my colleague but a close friend. He’s like my family. He’s a good man.”

“Money corrupts even the best of men,” Robb mused.

“Not Greyworm.” Daenerys was stern on her position. Unless proven otherwise with something as concrete as the ground upon which they stand, she would never doubt Grey. “You don’t know me well, Robb, but I’m loyal above all else.”

“To a fault, perhaps,” he said sharply.

“Perhaps,” she agreed coolly, “but until you can show me that my friend, my partner is intentionally fucking with me then I don’t believe you one bit.”

“My sister is in there,” Robb said slowly. “Do you know what that means?”

“I—”

“There are two options. Either she’s already dead for what she did or she’s injured.”

“Or they’re smart and they’ve left her unarmed. This reduces their sentence.” Daenerys’ nature forced her to try and comfort the man in front of her, who somehow looked more depressed each time they cross paths.

A dark look crossed his eyes. “No, I know she’s hurt.” He frowned. “I can feel it.” His eyes found hers again, the look in them chilling. “You wouldn’t understand, this is just a job for you.”

“You keep saying that,” she said. Harshly. So far, she’d been patient with Robb. She had tried all sorts of tricks to comfort him, to bring some peace to his troubled mind when in return, all she received from him was spite. As if she was somehow responsible for what befell his sister. “You keep saying that this is a job for me like I don’t care about anything other than writing ‘solved’ on this case and throwing it in the trash. I know people are in danger. And I know it would’ve been worse if I had a loved one in there but I promise you it doesn’t make it any easier. If this was just a job for me, I wouldn’t be here today listening to you. None of the officers knows of this. I could get into trouble for even involving you in this but I did because I care. I care about these innocents and I care about getting to the end of this, not because it’s my job, but because I understand how dire the situation is for everyone involved.”

Robb, stunned, didn't have a response to that.

She huffed at his expression. “So pardon me for not understanding but I’m trying. It’s the best I can do and if that’s not enough then maybe you should stop contacting me and pray to the gods that your sister magically returns to you safe and sound.”

A part of her knew she is being unfairly rude to a distressed man but she was past caring. With a lingering look in his direction, she grabbed her cup of coffee and left him to ponder on her words.

**5:23 pm.**

_Can we meet?_

Jon stared at his phone until his eyes begin to sting and he is forced to blink.

The smart choice would be to tell her that he was busy, to try and stop whatever there was between them to spiral out of control. But if Jon was a smart man, he never would’ve slept with Daenerys in the first place.

That’s not right. Jon _was _a smart man. He never would’ve gotten this far if he wasn’t. This heist would’ve never worked if he wasn’t. So why was he endangering all of this for a pretty, petite silver-haired detective who was literally his worst nightmare? Why, out of all people he could’ve lusted after, did it have to be Daenerys Targaryen—the only person powerful and cunning enough to bring his whole operation down?

He sat back in his chair, sighing to himself quietly as he eyed the monitor screens in front of him. He could see Gendry in a storeroom, recuperating from his wound, with the others checking in on him every now and then. He could see how jittery Oberyn is, how angry he seemed about the fact that there has been a crack in an otherwise flawless plan. He could sense the tension there without actually being in the same building as them. He wanted to be the perfect leader, to assure them that a little mistake wasn't the end of the world but he’d be lying to himself. Daenerys must know some of their faces due to the video one of the hostages filmed. It was going to be easier to track them down once they would be out. On top of that, they’ve shot a girl—injuring someone automatically worsened their sentence and they _knew _this so Jon couldn't understand why they were reckless enough to do it.

_It’s easy to judge when you’re far from the battlefield, _his subconscious scolded him. He was no saint either. They might’ve broken a rule but he broke the biggest one by falling into bed with Daenerys, possibly the deadliest woman to him and everyone else involved in the heist.

The most sickening part is the lack of regret. He was scared of what he’d done, yes, and consumed by guilt but he was not regretful. It was inevitable.

Speaking of inevitable things, this time, it’s Detective Targaryen who called him. Jon stared at the telephone for a long moment, gathering his senses, before he picked up. “Nice surprise, Detective.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, _White Wolf._” She had a way of saying his name which both ruffled his feathers and, embarrassingly enough, aroused him. An exaggerated sweetness coated every syllable as she purred the words at him. “I suppose you know what happened.”

Jon kept quiet.

She laughed. “Of course you do. You’re the mastermind after all, aren’t you?”

More silence.

Daenerys was having a great time getting a rise out of him. “But you know what? I’m feeling generous today. How about a deal?”

Jon scoffed. “A deal like the one you didn’t respect?”

“You’re right, I didn’t. But all is fair in love and…heists, right?”

He rolled his eyes. She sounded _too _confident and it irked him. She knew she had the upper hand and there was nothing he could do about it. “What do you suggest?”

“You’re freeing ten hostages, including Arya – the girl who filmed that video – and we won’t leak the identities of your friends to the public.”

Jon’s mind flashed back to his call with Oberyn, how distraught his friend had sounded. He didn’t think it through, didn’t hesitate, when he answered, “Okay.”

Even Daenerys seemed taken aback, for silence hung heavy for a few seconds. “That was…awfully easy.”

“Do you want me to make it hard?”

She gave a dry chuckle. “Why do you care about saving your friends even if it means corrupting your plans?”

“Because I'll never let them down. The lone wolf dies,” he heard himself say, the words coming to him faster than any other logical answer, “but the pack survives.”

**8:02 pm.**

As Jon had previously established, he wasn’t very smart when it came to Daenerys. Or perhaps, a better a term would be _weak. _He found himself unable to resist the urge to answer her message on his way back home, inviting her over and then cursing himself afterwards.

Daenerys came with a bottle of champagne in hand, a grin plastered on her face. Jon couldn’t help but notice how much prettier she looked that night, her silver hair unbound and tumbling down her back in loose curls, the genuine joy on her face. He stumbled back in surprise when she greeted him with a kiss on the lips, her mouth as soft and sweet as he recalled.

She pulled away at his sharp intake of breath, her cheeks tinted pink. “I’m sorry, was this too forward?”

“I—no. Just…wasn’t expecting it,” he breathed out.

She blushed harder, closing her eyes. “Sorry, I haven’t done _this _in so long and I don’t even know what this is. Was it just a one-time thing? Are we friends now? Do we—”

He silenced and assured her the only way he knew how to, with a kiss. Daenerys tensed in his arms but then sighed contentedly into his mouth, and he knew he was far too gone to back out now. “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be your friend,” he told her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “and I haven’t been in a relationship in a while too so we’re on the same boat here.”

“Great.” She chuckled nervously. “I just—I really like you, okay? You make me forget about the shitstorm my life usually is.”

A lump rose in his throat and when he looked down in her eyes, he saw nothing but sincerity. _Oh, Dany. _He was consciously leading her into something that would hurt them both and he had no idea how to stop. Or maybe he did but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. “I really like you as well,” he said and horrifyingly enough, it was true.

Her eyes shone at his words and her grin widened.

“Can I know why you brought champagne along?”

“Well,” she drawled, “tonight calls for a celebration.”

“Because?”

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone but I’m too happy to care right now,” she declared, “We’re close to cracking the case.”

Jon’s heartbeat sped up. “Oh?”

“A lot of improvement. If everything goes right, tomorrow they’ll be freeing hostages.”

“Oh,” Jon repeated.

“You can sound a bit happier, you know,” she jested, rolling her eyes at him, “It’s not a lot but we’re freeing innocents.”

“I’m very happy, of course,” Jon said, shaking his head. “I’m proud of you.”

She went into his kitchen and he followed her numbly. At times like this, he realised how different their worlds were despite being so very intertwined. His loss was her success and his victory would be her loss. How was it possible to like someone like her, someone who was pouring them both a glass of champagne to celebrate his downfall? Did he enjoy how twisted this whole thing was, sickeningly enough?

Yet, he knew it wasn't just that. Jon grew to admire her determination and strength. The grief she still carried around from her marriage but which she used as armour instead of allowing it to weigh down on her. _She’s not like the Lannisters, _he thought to himself, watching as she happily danced around his kitchen, babbling on about how eager she was to beat this case, _she isn’t a bad person. She isn’t corrupted like them. She has a good heart. _

A good heart he would inevitably break if the truth came out.

“I can’t wait to end this thing,” she said, “and put all of them behind bars.”

The fierceness in her voice made Jon anxious. He took a long sip of the cold drink and gently asked, “Do you think everyone you put behind bars is a bad person??”

It was a strange question and she glanced at him with an eyebrow raised. “Are you asking me if criminals are always bad people?” she asked, chortling at the idea.

Jon nodded soberly. “Do you think,” he wondered, licking his lips, “that there’s a chance, sometimes, that it’s just a matter of perspective?”

Daenerys considered his words. Her brow furrowed. “Well,” she began, “From my perspective, whoever’s behind this is evil.”

Jon’s grip on the glass tightened, a jolt of pain shooting right through his heart. “You’re good at this, you know,” she said suddenly, eyes twinkling.

He felt hot under his clothes. “At what?”

“Making me _think _about things. I guess it’s because you’re a writer.” She walked up to him. “I guess that’s why I like you, you make me question stuff.”

“I’m glad if you think that’s a good thing,” he answered meekly.

“It is.” She came closer, still, until his back was pressed against the marbled counter. “And you’re so mysterious. I want to crack you like one of my cases, Jon, why do you speak so little? I know almost nothing about you.”

She had her interrogative voice on but there was also lust in her eyes, a dangerously addictive mix. “I’m not very good with women,” he admitted sheepishly.

She chuckled. “You’re good with me, consider me completely charmed. But I want to know more about you.”

_I doubt that. _“We have lots of time for that,” he murmured to her, a sweet lie, closing the gap between them, capturing her mouth in a sweet kiss.

Daenerys hummed in agreement against his lips, her tongue curling around his in the most sensual way and all he knew was that they didn’t have much more time. Their relationship was controlled by a clock—the heist’s clock.

Soon, she’d either defeat him or he would defeat her.

Soon, this whole thing would end.

Soon, he would either be in prison or on an island far, far away from here.

There were many options but only one certainty: this wasn’t forever, soon, they’d be separated.

And like a greedy man, he wanted all he could get. He wanted her to be his, with all her fire and goodness, all of her passion and strength. Maybe he enjoyed the thrill of having Daenerys when he knew he shouldn’t or maybe what he felt for her was beyond all of _this _but for that night, he was past caring. He would have her one last time and nothing short of the seven hells burning could stop him from this.

She laughed when he carried her to his bedroom and the sound blocked out every negative thought in his head, hung in the air like a sweet aroma he never wanted to get rid of. Daenerys was a vision sprawled on his bed, her silver hair around her face like a melted crown of diamonds, her kiss-bruised lips parted to let out small moans when he kissed down the column of her neck, sucking on the skin beneath her earlobe.

Her dress was as pretty as it was annoying. When Jon failed to find the zipper, he groaned against her neck, tearing at the fabric. She gasped then laughed, hitting him on the shoulder playfully. “Whatever’s gotten into you?” she asked, throwing her head back when his mouth closed around her right breast, his tongue tracing a hot, wet circle around her pebbled nipple. “Someone’s eager,” she huffed, her small hands running up and down his bare back.

“You’ve no idea,” he growled against the skin of her stomach, kissing wherever he could reach.

His cock was already rock-hard from making her body shudder with kisses, licks and bites. He kissed along her inner thighs, the sweet smell of her arousal pulling him in but he had better plans for now – he had to be inside of her.

When he slid inside of her heat, they moaned in unison. He fucked her slowly but deeply, watching as her face contorted, sweat beads gathering on her forehead. Her body moved perfectly in sync with his, legs trapping his torso. Jon took her in; from the swaying of her sweat-covered breasts to the way her mouth dropped open, little mewls escaping, and he said, “Look at me, Dany. Look at me when I fuck you.”

She listened to his rasped request, amethyst eyes boring into his as he slammed into her cunt. She looked at him with so much desire and something softer, warmer, something like love.

When he came, all he could think about, bitterly, was that she would never look at him the same if she knew the truth.

**the heist – day 06,**

**5:20 am.**

Things began to fall apart that day.

It started out slow, the turned into an avalanche which would leave no stone unturned.

Robb was at the camp before sunrise, before even Daenerys got there.

When she did, she only greeted him with a nod.

He must’ve felt guilty because he followed her around like a lost puppy until she got annoyed and asked him, “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to apologise for the way I spoke to you,” he said, and to his credit – he sounded truthful. “I’m just very stressed.”

Daenerys was never good at holding grudges so she nodded. “And I never said I didn’t understand that. I know, so I appreciate your apology. All’s good.”

He smiled a little. “So what’s the plan for today?”

She smiled too. “You’ll see,” she said. She didn’t tell him about Arya, in case the plane went awry and his sister wouldn’t get freed, and hoped that it would be good enough of a surprise to thank him _and _her for their help.

He gave her a weird look but didn’t press.

When Greyworm called for Dany, telling her it was time, she gave Robb a stern look. “Stay here,” she commanded. The last thing she needed was a last-minute fuck-up in this plan. All she had to do was pick up the phone, give the order, and ten innocent lives would be forever saved.

When Grey passed her the phone, he wished her luck. _White Wolf _or whoever he was, wherever he was hiding, kept his promise. “We’re letting go of ten prisoners, including Arya Stark.” There was a pregnant pause after which his tone turned threatening, even through the voice-changer it could be heard, “If you leak the identities of anyone inside, we will kill the rest.”

“Done,” she said.

“Done,” he repeated before cutting the line.

Daenerys stayed there for a second, phone to her ear, her heart drumming in her chest. She couldn’t tell if it was real or another sick twist.

And then Greyworm was shouting, “There’s movement at the entrance.”

Daenerys inhaled sharply. “Send ten men out. Armed.”

She went out with Grey and a couple of other police officers, watching with interest as the gates to the Iron Bank trembled and began to slide open. Holding her breath, she prayed it was true.

“People are coming out,” an officer yelled, “Do not shoot, I repeat, do not shoot.”

She exhaled softly. “It worked,” she whispered to no one in particular.

The hostages were taken directly to an ambulance and then, Robb Stark saw his sister and as she watched realisation hit his face, eyes watering as he ran to her, Daenerys remembered why she did what she did. For this.

“Arya,” he cried, his arms wrapped around the petite girl’s frame, crushing her to his chest and kissing all over her hair and face. “Gods, Arya. You’re here. You’re okay.”

Daenerys’ heart warmed as she looked at them until she noticed the bandage on the girl’s leg. Her smile faded. “They shot you,” she said, approaching the pair.

Arya finally looked at her. Even with the fright in her eyes and her hair a complete mess, she was a beautiful girl and looked a lot like her brother. She nodded weakly. “They did,” she answered shakily, “but it was worth it.”

“You need to get a check-up,” Daenerys told her softly. “Robb can meet you at the hospital.”

Arya nodded, hugged her brother a bit tighter. “Thank you,” she told Daenerys before the latter nodded at an officer, ordering him to take her in the van.

Robb stared at his sibling’s disappearing form with tears in his eyes before he turned to Daenerys. “I…why did you do that?”

“I released ten hostages, not only her.”

“Yes but you picked her, didn’t you?”

She smiled. “She risked her life for us. It was the least we could do to thank her for her bravery. And you’ve helped me find out a very important piece of information about the identity of the man who speaks to me on the phone. So thank you, Robb.”

“I’m the one who doesn’t know how to thank you enough,” he exhaled, chuckling as he wiped his eyes, “I don’t know what to say. You’re wonderful, Daenerys.”

“I’m happy for you,” she told him honestly.

Robb looked around, smiled a bit before asking, “I don’t know if that’s appropriate but I feel like you and I have connected over this and, uh, I’d like to know if you’d want to maybe have dinner with me once this is all solved?”

Daenerys was shocked by the request. She liked Robb, but she didn’t _like _him. She’d never had the opportunity to think of him in this way. “That’s flattering, Robb, but…I’m kinda seeing someone,” she said sheepishly.

His face fell but only briefly. He caught up with a smile. “Oh, I didn’t know. Sorry. But I should’ve guessed.”

Daenerys laughed awkwardly. “It’s fine.” Gently, she added, “and I think you’re just still very overwhelmed. Dating a cop isn’t all fun, trust me.”

“At least it’s interesting,” he joked back, “but I’m happy for you if you are. And I still stand by what I said, you’re a great person, so thank you.”

They ended it with a warm hug.

**8:08 am. **

“Ten hostages gone. Just like that.”

“I did it to protect you.”

“We wouldn’t need protecting in the first place if Gendry didn’t fuck up the—”

“Oberyn,” Jon cut him off, “We’re not talking about this anymore. It’s almost over. This whole thing. And we’re all alive. We can still win.”

Oberyn stayed quiet for a long moment. “The pack survives,” he said quietly.

Jon smiled. “Exactly. The pack survives.”

“Is it time to get the crown, then?”

“It is.” Jon licked his lips. “It’s time to give Jaime a taste of his own medicine.”

**9:23 am.**

“Grey, can I speak to you for a second?” Daenerys asked.

Greyworm glanced at her and nodded. “Sure, what is it?”

Daenerys didn’t know how to sugar coat it so she didn’t. “We have a mole amongst us,” she declared.

“_What_?” His voice dropped to a harsh whisper.

She explained it to him, then, what Robb had told her. That the person speaking to her over the phone since the beginning wasn’t even inside the Iron Bank with the rest, but the master mind controlling this whole thing from the outside. And potentially someone close to them.

“That would mean that the person knows me. Knows about how close the Lannisters and I are,” she told him.

“And maybe they got close to you knowing you’d be the one handling this.”

She gnawed on her bottom lip. “That’s impossible. It’s not like I speak about this heist with many people.”

“Well, let’s make a list. Personally I speak about it with Missandei. You know her.”

“Your fiancée,” Daenerys nodded. “But you’ve known each other forever. She can’t be the one.”

“Right. Other than that, I mention it here and there with my father. What about you?”

“There’s my mother,” she answered. “And Davos, the coffee shop owner.” Daenerys shook her head. He was a good man and had known her for so long. He was like her grandfather, she couldn’t picture him using her as such. “And there’s Jon.”

“I know about Davos,” Grey said, “But who’s Jon?”

Daenerys waved it off. “This man I’ve recently started seeing.”

“How did you two meet?”

Daenerys huffed. “It’s not him. He’s a great guy, not a criminal.” _Jon has kind eyes_, she thought, and was always gentle with her – despite having known her for just a little while.

“Have you known him for a long time?”

No,” Dany replied, resolve weakening. “Actually, we accidentally met at Davos’.”

“So you met this guy, around the same time the heist began, at a place everyone knows you love?” Grey’s eyes hardened, “And it was an 'accident'.”

Daenerys’ face paled at the implications. “It’s not Jon,” she argued but her voice was frail, “He’s….”

“He’s what?”

“He’s nice,” she tried, “he—he’s a writer.”

“Really? What books has he published?”

“He’s just starting out.”

“Have you ever seen him around before?”

“No.”

He gave her a look then and it was far too judgmental for her liking. “When you say it like this it sounds suspicious but it isn’t,” she said, getting defensive.

“Oh?” Greyworm raised an eyebrow at her. “Then let’s go pay this Jon a visit, shall we?”

**10:02 am.**

The doorbell rang for the fourth time and still, no one answered. “He isn’t home,” Daenerys stated. “We should go, we—”

Before she could utter another word, Greyworm had pricked the lock and was pushing the door open.

She glared at him. “That’s illegal,” she said.

“Thank gods we’re the law,” he deadpanned, going in.

Daenerys followed behind him nervously. Her heart was beating fast in her chest, her stomach coiled. It couldn’t be true. It must all be a big, funny coincidence they would laugh at in the future.

“I’ll check the rooms. You go over everything here,” Grey instructed, cocking his gun.

When she didn’t reply, he turned to her, “Hey,” he said gently, “I know you hate this. But it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” she mumbled.

As Grey departed, Daenerys looked around Jon’s house, guilt weighing down on her chest. He would hate her for this. Hells, she would hate it too if the person she just got with broke into her house in the middle of the day to investigate. _He doesn’t have to know, _a part of her mind said, _you’ll be out of here soon and everything will be normal. _

Except…it wouldn’t.

As Dany looked around, she found herself approaching a shelf upon which he put a few photographs. She smiled to herself at a small, curly-haired Jon hugging a man. She grabbed the photograph to get a closer look. It had to be his father. However, as she turned the photograph around, her smile dropped.

In cursive letters, the words ‘_the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives_’ was written.

She almost dropped the photo.

“Hey.”

Daenerys jolted up, wide eyes finding Grey’s.

“Are you ok?” he asked, probably noticing her pale face.

She nodded quickly, putting the picture back where she found it. Her hand was shaking. “Yes, wh—why?”

“I found nothing,” he said, shrugging, “Have you?”

She didn’t know why she lied, perhaps it was all too sudden, perhaps a stupid part of her heart still wished to hear Jon’s version for some reasons beyond her understanding. All she knew was that she shook her head.

Greyworm was appeased. “You were right. You’re not dating a psychopath but I’m still glad we checked.”

Daenerys nodded, numbed, mind spinning. “No, you were right,” she said with an empty smile, “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

**8:36 pm.**

***

Jon promised himself that he would leave her that night.

He didn’t care if he was breaking his heart and hers in the process, even if it pained him to hurt her, he knew the actual truth was worse. He was bound to hurt her anyway, so perhaps it was better that he did it through heartbreak, perhaps it was better for her to think he was an asshole than for her to keep thinking she was the man she thought he was and then find out the truth.

His mind was set. He had to break things off with her. His feelings for her spiralled out of control too fast. It was too much—too quickly. She was his weakness. He was afraid that if she looked him in the eyes and asked him to let go of every bit of hatred he ever had for the Lannisters, he would do it. And he couldn’t have that. His hatred, the drive for vengeance, that was all he knew. The only thing he was good at. And then she came along and showed him another way of life, one that did not need to be dictated by the ghosts of his past haunting him, one that was bright and full of love and possibilities—and he hated it. He hated how easy she made it for him to forget all that he had planned for over a decade. One smile from her, one look into her violet eyes and he would question why he was doing all of that. Why he was so desperate to cling onto revenge when he could have a future with _her. _

But it wasn’t fair. Daenerys didn’t know him. Not truly. She knew his heart, perhaps, and some parts of his mind but behind every truth he’d uttered to her, there were three more layers of lies. Everything about their relationship was built on a lie. No matter how strong it would get, the foundation would always be the same. A throne of lies. Deception. Manipulation. That was who he was, deep down. A man who was selfish enough to make her like him, _want_ him, knowing what the outcome would be.

He was determined to do the right thing. At least now he could fix some of it. He knew she’d find out the truth soon enough – if all went well – and would hate him. But maybe if she hated him before that, it would be easier to deal with. That was his fucked-up theory for this even more fucked-up situation anyway.

However, when Daenerys opened the door to her house, Jon realised this would be harder than what he’d thought.

She was lovely, a striking sight in a red silk dress, silver curls tumbling down her shoulders. He was used to seeing her wearing that black uniform, her hair always up in a ponytail – and she was gorgeous even then. But seeing her like this, not Detective Targaryen but just a beautiful woman, was even more disarming than anticipated.

“Hi,” she said sweetly.

He couldn’t resist it. He stepped in and kissed her softly on the lips. For a moment, she froze. But then she kissed him back, moving her lips against his sweetly and his head began to spin, Jon was thoroughly distracted by the woman in his arms, he was so fucked.

_You’re here to stop this. _

But she tasted something sweet like the coffee she always had at Davos’ café and that underlying hint of jasmine perfume that always swirled around her.

_Stop. _

But his hands found the small of her waist and he was tugging her closer to him and, gods, would it be so bad to find out how easily he could take this dress off of her?

Daenerys had other plans, though, and he was thankful for when she pulled away even when he felt like whining like a kid whose favourite toy was being snatched away from him. She licked her lips and smiled at him but as Jon came down from his Dany-induced trance, he noted that her features were…off. A bit too distant for his liking, her eyes no longer as sparkling as usual.

“Are you ok—”

“I have something for you,” she cut him off, stepping back from his embrace. Her smile was seductive as she traced her fingertips along the plunging neckline of her dress, drawing his eyes to her breasts.“Lock the door.”

He was confused, thrown off, but powerless to her gaze. He did as he was told – despite promising himself that things couldn’t escalate. Not before he did what he came here to do. That is, break her heart. Jon turned around and twisted the doorknob and before he could face her again, he heard the distinctive cocking of a gun.

He froze.

Time seemed to also freeze with him.

“Hands in the air,” she said, her voice as hard as steel. “Turn around slowly.”

Jon blinked at the door. “Dany—”

“Now,” she hissed out at him, not letting him finish whatever he was going to say.

He lifted his arms, his mind racing. For the first time in a long while, Jon Snow had no clue what was happening. This situation was entirely out of his control – something that never occurred in the masterplan he’d concocted. His heart jumped in his chest as he began to turn, it shattered when he saw Daenerys’ face, tears streaming down her cheeks as she held a gun at him.

For a few seconds, neither said a thing. The room was silent, so quiet that he could hear his own ragged breathing and the thumping of his pulse.

“Are you going to _say_ something?” she asked loudly. “Say it’s not true.”

He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t think. He could only see her and her bright, violet eyes dimmed with hurt. Pain that he caused her. He wished to drop to his knees and beg for her forgiveness. “Dany, I—”

“_Don’t,_” her voice cracked, tone coated in liquid fire when she spat, “call me that.”

He swallowed.

“Say something.”

“How did you find out?” he breathed out.

A shaky breath caught in her throat and Jon could tell how desperate she was to be proven wrong and _oh, _his heart broke when the little hope she’d seemed to possess flew right out of her eyes. “The lone wolf dies but the pack survives,” she whispered to him, “you have that on a picture with your father.”

Jon could only stare at her, ashamed that such a stupid, lousy mistake took down all of his plans. Ten years worth of hard work down the drain because of a quote. “How—”

“I broke in here today,” she continued, “my colleague was telling me that it was suspicious how you stumbled into my life _exactly_ when the heist started. He thought I was being naïve trusting you but I didn’t think so. I _trusted_ you. Stupidly. Blindly.”

He found that he didn’t care that she knew the truth – a part of him was relieved, really – but all he cared about was that she was very upset. Her teary-eyed gaze was tearing him apart. “I’m _so _sorry, Dan—Daenerys. My intention was never to hurt you.”

His kind words seemed to only fuel her anger and her violet eyes were burning with fury. “Did we meet on accident?”

“Please—”

“Tell me!” she yelled, clutching the gun tighter.

Jon steadied himself, then slowly answered, “No.”

“Are you a writer?”

“No.”

She looked as if he had slapped her and he wanted to explain, to justify everything, but he couldn’t. “You planned it all,” she said—not a question, but a statement.

Jon didn’t answer.

“You were using me from the beginning,” she realised, horrified, “pretending you understood when I told you about my ex-husband. But how are you any different than him? Or maybe that was part of your plan too. Did that make me appear weak in your eyes?”

Jon couldn’t stand her comparing him to her abusive ex-husband, but even if it tore at his heart, he had nothing concrete to defend himself with. Other than the truth, “I didn’t know about your husband before I met you. I…yes, I knew a lot of things about you. Things Tyrion told me—“

“Jaime’s brother?” she asked. “He’s in on this too?”

“I’ll get to it,” he promised, “but before, I need you to know…it wasn’t meant to be like this. I thought you were as bad as the rest of them, if I could take it back and never involve you in all of this, I wouldn't.”

“As bad as whom?”

“The Lannisters.”

“How are they the bad people here?” she scoffed at him.

“Jaime is a terrible man,” Jon said.

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not lying,” he swore, instinctively taking a step forward. “I know it’s hard to trust me, Dany, but it’s the truth.”

“How is he a bad man?” she asked softly.

“He’s done terrible things. To me, to the other people in the Iron Bank. Things that we’ll never get justice for because we’re not like them.”

“You’re lying,” she accused, her face contorted in repulsion. Jon never wanted her to look at him this way. Everyone else, but not _her_. He wasn’t prepared for how much it’d hurt. “I know the Lannisters. My father was friends with Jaime’s father, they were like brothers—”

“Children are not their fathers,” he sneered at her, “I don’t know what kind of man his father was but he isn’t a good one.”

“What do you mean by these accusations?” she inquired then, eyeing him skeptically. 

“My father died in an accident. Jaime is the one who hit him.”

He could see the shift in her eyes, the softening of her gaze. It was like, for a moment, she wanted to offer words of comfort but then she remembered who she was, who _he _was, and what was happening. The steel returned in her amethyst irises. “An accident is not murder,” she stated.

“He paid my family for their silence,” Jon continued, “I wasn’t allowed to speak on it. Or mourn him. Or even see my father’s body.” His voice cracked but he went on, “and he got away with it.”

“I’m sorry for you,” Daenerys told Jon, her voice thick with emotions, and he could tell that she meant it despite everything.

“Elia Martell, do you know who that is?”

Daenerys’ brow furrowed. “No.”

He smiled morosely. “Of course you don’t. No one does. She was raped, but to this day, nobody knows her name. Only her brother, Oberyn.” 

He saw Daenerys' flinch.

“I’m sure the stories don’t stop there,” Jon pressed on, “how many other times have the Lannisters used their power to get away with horrible things? Will we ever know?”

He could see her defenses crumbling apart, her arm slowly lowering until the gun was now pointing at the ground. Jon had all the time in the world to take advantage of this situation, to take advantage of her momentary weakness and period of reflection to snatch the gun from her, turn this situation around, gain power…. But for once, he didn’t feel the need to have the upper hand.

He didn’t want to betray Daenerys anymore. He was so tired of fighting, he had been doing this for the previous ten years now. He wanted someone to understand—he wanted Dany to see him, see that he didn’t want to be standing here today, hurting both of them, that if he could change everything, he would but that this was inevitable.

“I know you think you know these people or that you feel like you’re one of them but you’re not,” he said, gently approaching her, still wary but a part of his heart knowing that she wouldn’t hurt him, “You've been taught that there's only good or bad but that's not the case. Do you think the Lannisters are good people? Do you think they don't use their money for more fucked up things than we can count? We're not robbing innocent men and women, Daenerys, we don't want _their _money. The people we're doing this to are not good people." He took in a deep breath. "You’re good, Daenerys. All my life, I knew I had to avenge my father. And then I realised that I was simply one of many, many other cases that would be forgotten and unheard of because I, like the others, didn’t have the power to be heard. I got back at him the only way I knew how to. Something that was so impactful even his power couldn't help."

"You're hurting other people in the process."

"We didn't mean to shoot that girl. It was never meant to happen but accidents are normal in plans like this. It's unfortunate but it's true." He shook his head at her. "But I promise, we do not want to hurt the innocents. The hostages will all live if all goes well. The only person we want to hurt is Jaime, only him."

“You say I’m not like them,” she whispered, finally looking up at him, “but you used me all the same. You lied to me, pretended you cared—”

“I do. I care.”

“No, you can’t say that! Not when everything was built on a lie,” she sobbed, “was it part of your plan as well, to sleep with me? Is that how you made sure I was weak enough for you?”

“No,” Jon felt like he was repeating himself but he couldn’t let her believe that what he felt for her was false, “I know it’s fucking hard to trust me right now but I swear, I swear to all the gods, that none of this was part of my plan. All I had to do was keep an eye on you. And then I started to get to know you and everything changed. You were the only error in an otherwise perfect plan. The only mistake I made. There is no winning for me in this anymore because even if everything goes right, I’ll still never see you again.”

Her eyes were glossy when she stared at him and then, out of the blue, it was like she snapped out of it and the gun was pressed against his head, freezing him up. “W-what if this is just another one of your tactics to distract me so you can run?”

Even he could tell she didn’t believe what she was saying. “I love you,” was all he said.

“You can’t say that,” she protested. "You barely even know me!"

“I can,” he told her, his arm wrapping around her waist, allowing her the time to escape if she wished to but wanting to hold her one last time if she’d let him. “You’re perhaps currently the only good thing in my life, Dany, as pathetic as that is.”

“Please—”

“No, you don’t get it. Revenge, vengeance, ghosts of the past…that was all I’ve known for so long. Even amidst all of this, you’re still one of the few good things that has happened to me in a long while.”

She gulped. “Forgive them,” she whispered, the gun pressed to his temple, his arm still snaked around his waist. Tears pooled in her eyes but they refused to fall as if she was still holding on to a last thread of hope. “If you love me, forgive the Lannisters, let all that hatred go.”

“I can’t,” he answered.

“Not because I think they’re good people,” she sniffed, “I believe you. I do. Perhaps I shouldn’t but I do. I need you to forgive them because you’ll end up in jail, Jon. You know it. This won’t end prettily. Your life will be ruined, along with the others. And the Lannisters will win, yet again. So stop this. Run from here. Forget about this mission. Start over, you said it yourself, I’m something good that happened to you—there are better things in the future.”

“And leave all of my friends inside?” he whispered back, using his thumb to wipe at the corner of her eyes. “I’ve made a promise to these people, Daenerys. I can’t let them down. I will get all of them out, or die trying. That much is my duty, and I cannot turn my back on them as such.”

“Please,” she whimpered, “I don’t know what to do. I can’t save you.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “And I won’t ask it of you. I can’t ask you to be with me, Daenerys, because it’s not my place."

“I don’t know what to do,” she repeated, still crying, her eyes slipping shut.

“Do what you’re supposed to do,” he said, “but know that if you let me walk out of here freely, I _will_ finish what I started.”

Daenerys scowled at his words. “That doesn’t leave me much choice, now, does it?” she asked shakily.

“Whatever you choose,” he said, “I’ll accept. I won’t hate you for doing what you feel is right.” He paused. “And deep down, you know what is right. You always have.”

She was shaking her head fiercely. “I don’t! I thought I did, until _you_. I don’t know anything anymore.”

“You do,” he assured her calmly. “You’re a good person. Listen to your heart.”

The gun was aimed at his head and as he said the words, she straightened her arm, got in a better position, her eyes fixed on her target—him. Despite her tear-soaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes, Jon saw the determination in her gaze.

She had made up her mind. 

**the heist – day 06,**  
  
** 7:32 am**.

Jaime Lannister was _not_ a morning person.

“I hope there’s been the biggest breakthrough in the case for you to call me here so early,” he told Daenerys somberly when he came to the scene this morning.

Dany shook his hand then Cersei’s, who was a lot calmer. “Do we know anything new?” she asked.

Daenerys took in a deep breath. “I know their plan.”

“What do you mean?” Jaime was now interested, his eyes widening. “You know how they’re going to escape?”

Daenerys made herself nod. “I know.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” His voice had risen, a bit too excited for the news that wasn’t even helpful _yet_.

“We need to advance carefully,” Dany told him, “and for that – I need you to trust me.” She turned to Cersei. Between the two of them, she was the most sensible. After all, nothing could compare to the love and wrath of a mother. “Can you do that?”

“We trust you,” she answered, grabbing Daenerys’ hand which was hanging by her side to give it a good, hard squeeze. “Wholeheartedly, we trust you.”

Daenerys nodded once. “Good. We’ll put you two in contact with the people inside.”

“You want us to speak to the robbers?” Jaime asked incredulously.

“I want you to give them what they want,” Daenerys corrected him. “You’ll understand. Come.”

She led them to the telephone. One look at the guards and they understood that she wanted everyone gone. It was just her, Jaime and Cersei—and the phone. “Remember,” Daenerys warned, “give them what they want. I promise you, we’re a step ahead of them.”

Jaime had a sceptical, doubtful look in his eyes but Cersei was won over. “We will do as you say,” she swore.

Dany nodded. And dialled the number, put it on the loudspeaker.

Oberyn Martell didn’t mask his voice as Jon Snow did. And when he spoke, it was to Jaime – and directly to the point. “Is Jaime here?”

Jaime blinked, surprised. “Speaking.”

There was a pause, that was way too long to be considered normal, and then, a long sigh. “When I imagined this in my dreams,” Oberyn said, “I was in front of you. A knife to your throat, perhaps, or a gun to your head.”

Cersei blanched. Jaime’s upper lip twitched. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked Daenerys furiously.

“Calm down,” she mouthed to him, giving him a hardened look.

Jaime huffed. “What do you want from me?”

“I need to hear the truth from you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“My sister, Elia, tell me what you and your cousin did to her.”

Daenerys didn’t miss the exact moment the words had an effect on Jaime, the way his eyes bulged, his lips parted, throat bobbing. _It’s all true, _she realised at that moment. At his silence, Daenerys commanded, “answer him.”

“What do you want me to say? I’ve no idea what he’s speaking of!” Jaime lied through his teeth.

“Joffrey is just next to me,” Oberyn cooed in the phone, “perhaps his cries will refresh your memory, hm? Joffrey, say hi to Daddy.”

There was a loud, piercing cry. Panting. “D-dad, please, get me out of here! Get me out!”

“Joffrey,” Cersei gasped, running to the phone like it was her son. “Baby, are you alright?”

“Y-yes but I’m scared, I-I want to come back home. I’m hungry an—and tired, please,” their son sobbed into the phone.

“Jaime,” Cersei seethed, “tell him what he wants to hear!”

Jaime’s face was twisted in anger and confliction. In the end, he gave up with a long exhale. “We were both drunk. We’d met her at a bar and—and she was the one to flirt with us,” he said.

“You raped my sister,” Oberyn accused.

Jaime shook his head. “No. We didn't. She _wanted_ it.”

"You raped her."

"She was teasing us, she--"

“Say it!”

“Okay,” Jaime snapped, “okay. Yes, you’re right.”

Cersei stared at him, eyes brimming with tears for entirely different reasons now. “You told me it was all a lie,” she whispered.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” he growled back at her.

“Now,” Oberyn said calmly, “I need one last thing from you. The crown.”

“_What_?” Jaime asked. “You’re not getting your hands on this! It has been in my family for centuries, it’s worth more money than you can ever dream of having!”

Oberyn laughed. “Tell me the code to open the safe,” he said slowly, “or I’ll blow your son’s brains out.”

“Do something!” Jaime yelled at Dany.

“What do you want me to do?” she hissed back at him, “do as he says.”

“No way,” Jaime scoffed.

“Two eight six three,” Cersei blurted out.

Jaime’s jaw might as well have hit the floor. “You—what the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“This is _my son _who’s inside,” Cersei yelled at him, the vein in her neck popping out, “I would let them kill you and your whole family to have him back, you think I care about a crown?”

The silence was deafening. Jaime sank on a chair, his face white with horror. Oberyn was delighted, his laughter cruel and dark. “It was amazing doing business with you,” he drawled before the line went dead.

“This isn’t a problem, is it?” Cersei asked Dany. “You said you’re a step ahead. You’ll get them, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Daenerys answered, “they’re escaping through the tunnels underground. We’re sending all of our men there. You will get your son _and _your money.”

Daenerys didn’t regret her decision. After all, she’d listened to her heart.

**the aftermath**

“Robb, come here!”

Upon hearing his sister's voice filled with so much panic, he let go of the toast he was making and rushed to the living room.

“What?”

“Look! Isn’t this Daenerys?”

Robb’s head snapped to the TV at the name, coming to a halt as he saw her face plastered all over the news. The reporter was saying, “…and the elaborate escape was helped by Detective Targaryen herself or so it seems. Was it all part of their plan from the beginning? Was she always with them? So far, nothing is confirmed but we have Jaime Lannister, in complete distress, telling us about his side of the story.”

The screen faded to Jaime, whose face was red. With anger or humiliation, Robb couldn’t tell. “It was all part of her plan,” he spat, “she told us to trust her and she’s a long-time family friend so of course we did! She lied to our faces. Lied about how they were escaping. Lied about the crown! Which she’d promised we’d get back! And now she has _coincidentally_ vanished as well.” He was rambling on, visibly shaken and in disbelief of the events that unfolded. "This crown is the most precious thing in our family, it has been with us for generations and now I'll never get to pass it down to my son because of them!"

“What do you mean she lied about their escape?” the interviewer questioned.

“She said they dug through the tunnels underground to escape,” Jaime heatedly explained, “she sent _all _of her men there. But they didn’t escape through the tunnels. They sent the hostages out that way as a distraction. They got a fucking helicopter to escape.”

His wife took over. Cersei was holding their son – who was crying – close to her chest, stroking his golden hair as she said, “At least our son’s safe. And all the other children. The rest isn't important.” She glared at her husband.

Jaime huffed, cursing under his breath as he moved away. The reporter continued, listing all the damage done to the Iron Bank but Robb had zoned out. _Was she playing me this whole time? _He wondered. _Was she never as good as I thought she was?_

“What even,” Arya breathed out, “was that?”

“I’ve no clue,” Robb mumbled to himself, needing to sit down.

“And us who thought she was the hero of the story,” Arya said, shaking her head in disgust, “Gods, I feel like I’ve been cheated on.”

“Yeah,” Robb answered dumbly. He still couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

Daenerys was never one of the good guys.

***

“She used to come here all the time,” the police officer declared, “do you deny it?”

“I do not,” Davos answered. “Daenerys Targaryen was one of my most loyal customers.”

The officer eyed him suspiciously. “And you have no idea where she could be?”

“Not one,” Davos replied, making sure to maintain eye contact, never once cowering from his gaze.

“Very well, sir,” the policeman sighed, closing his notepad. “We have no reason to doubt you.”

After he’d left, Davos waited at least fifteen minutes before grabbing his phone. He called _her, _knowing she was waiting for him.

“Davos.” Dany’s voice was filled with relief. “Are you okay? Did they take you in for questioning?”

“They didn’t. I’m a good liar. I’ve pretended to enjoy my wife’s cooking for four decades now, darling.”

The old man missed Daenerys’ vibrant laugh. If he closed his eyes, he could almost picture her face right now. He would miss her terribly, he knew that much. “They’re gone, but I don’t know for how long. If I know anything else, I’ll let you know.”

“Davos,” Daenerys said gently, “I appreciate your help more than anything in the world, you know it. But I don’t know why you’re helping me. Us. I haven’t even told you anything yet, you don’t have to trust what Jon or I have to say. We’re still technically criminals.”

“Do you intend to hurt people?”

“No, of course not.”

“That is all I need to know. You’re still the same to me, you’ll always be like my daughter.” He smiled. “I don’t care about the good or bad side. I’m on whatever side _you_ are.”

“I’m not sure I deserve this,” she chuckled, “but thank you. Thank you a million times over.”

“Plus,” Davos laughed, “we’ve all done crazy things for love.”

***

“How much do you think that crown’s worth?” Oberyn asked.

Ellaria hummed. “Eight times more than all of our houses combined,” she guessed.

Val laughed. “I’d say more.”

Gendry agreed, “definitely more.”

“However much it’s worth,” Sandor said, “we need to melt this damned thing first. It’s being searched for all over the continent.”

“We’ll get to it,” Jon promised, “and you’ll all get your shares.”

They raised their glasses to that, laughing as a splash of water hit Gendry in the face. It was hard to celebrate victory on a boat in the middle of nowhere but it was also their only chance to stay alive.

“Speaking of shares,” Tyrion chuckled, “there’s a person we forgot.”

“As if I could forget her,” Jon huffed, scooting over so she could join them, bringing two more glasses of champagne.

Daenerys grinned, suiting herself with a better seat—Jon’s lap. With her arms intertwined around his neck and his snaked around her waist, it was easy to lean up and press a kiss to her lips. Even with the saltiness of the sea surrounding them, she was as tasty as the sweetest candy.

“I still can’t believe you got her to join us,” Val said, shaking her head.

Daenerys pulled away from Jon, still smiling, and shrugged. “He can be quite persuasive,” she mumbled, unable to resist the urge to kiss him again, her hands cupping his face to deepen the kiss. Her tongue slipped past his lips, tasting the insides of his mouth and he groaned in response, growing needy for her.

“_Aaaand _I’ve seen enough,” Gendry said, deciding to leave.

The others followed, chuckling.

When left alone with Daenerys, Jon took a moment to look at her—look at where they were and realise that he truly had it all now. His thirst for revenge quenched, the woman he thought he would never have wrapped up in his arms, his friends safe and sound, headed to safety on an island far away from Westeros…. He tucked a piece of silver hair behind her ear. “Do you regret it?” he asked softly.

“Why are you asking? Because my reputation’s definitely ruined and that if I ever show my face in Westeros again they’ll probably try to kill me?”

His face darkened, his grip around her tightening. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. He didn’t care who he’d have to kill for that. “Dany,” he warned.

She rolled her eyes, laughing prettily. “I don’t know if I made the right decision,” she said, “I don’t know if that can ever be considered as the right decision. But I know that if that day, I had chosen to kill you or arrest you, I would’ve never been happy. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing that I did the _right _thing but in the end, I ended up helping someone as terrible as Jaime Lannister and left the man I was falling in love with behind. It may not have been the wisest or the most morally correct decision,” she paused to take his hand in hers, “but I don’t regret it.”

Perhaps he would always feel guilty for having come into her life but perhaps a bigger part of him was selfish enough to allow him this happiness. “Good,” he said, scooping her up in his arms, “Now, have you ever had sex on a boat while also being the most wanted people in the country?”

She threw her head back in laughter. “No, no. Not ever. But I admit it does sound really hot.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “It is. Maybe we should try it out.”

He didn’t know if this would have a happy ending or if they were heading straight into an iceberg which would shatter everything and kill all of them but for now, he was happy and so was she.  
  
Maybe that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END. 
> 
> okay i'm not 100% satisfied with how this turned out, mostly because i wanted to include more storylines from the show into this but honestly it was too much work and was getting out of control. my first draft of this was over 20k words and it was getting too complex for me to end it there so i decided to shorten it and keep the main beats i wanted.
> 
> i still hope you enjoyed! this was very fun to write and different from what i usually like to write.
> 
> if you have any questions or just want to yell at me to update, hit me up on twitter (danysaegon), seen some people ask for my tumblr but i don't use tumblr so yeah. thank you all for reading!


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